


The English Agent

by Cerdic519



Series: Elizabethan Serenade [2]
Category: Elizabeth (Movies), Supernatural, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Elizabethan Era, Alternate Universe - Historical, Assassination, Battle, Bedtime Stories, Beheading, Betrayal, Captivity, Caring Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural)'s Trenchcoat, Chicanery, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Does Not 'Faint', Dean is So Whipped, Edinburgh, England (Country), Explosions, F/M, France (Country), Harvelle's Roadhouse, Letters, London, M/M, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Murder, Omega Castiel, Palaces, Paris (City), Politics, Potions, Pregnancy, Religion, Revenge, Romance, Scotland, Spies & Secret Agents, Stuarts, Stupidity, Tower of London, Tudors - Freeform, Weddings, plots and schemes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:44:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 58,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: An Elizabethan Destiel featuring Scots omega Castiel Novak, his true mate English alpha Dean Winchester (who is not whipped, whatever anyone says), their 'interesting' families and many historical characters from Queen Elizabeth downwards. There will be plots, potatoes, murder, mayhem, kilts, kissing, bets, betrayals, explosions, excitement, scheming, screaming, ruts, writings, urges and unguents. There will however be absolutely no cuddling* whatsoever, because alphas do not do that sort of thing.* Manly embracing is NOT the same as cuddling!





	1. News From Abroad (1558-1559)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MelodyofWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyofWings/gifts), [lyster99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyster99/gifts), [bookworm4ever81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm4ever81/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the autumn of 1558. Mary I of England ('Bloody Mary') dies, and her Protestant half-sister Elizabeth becomes the last Tudor monarch of England. But a pretender, their cousin Mary Queen of Scots (and soon to be Queen of France), is waiting in the wings with a rival - and Catholic - claim. Events in the latter's native Scotland take a worrying turn, whilst at Mary's French court young Lord Castiel Novak has a lot of reading to do – after he has killed his younger brother!

**MDLVIII**   
**XV November**   
**Hatfield House, Hertfordshire (England)**

Mary Campbell smiled slightly to herself as yet more people traipsed across the greensward towards the great house.

“What is it, mama?” her sixteen-year-old alpha son asked, coming to join her. “More people?”

“The trickle has become a flood, Dean”, she sighed, “ever since Queen Mary bowed to the inevitable and acknowledged Lady Elizabeth as her rightful heir. Though I would warrant that was as much the work of her Spanish husband (1) as her own wishes; he will not want the French sniffing around our crown through the claims of that Mary Stuart.”

“So they're coming here to suck up to the new queen?” Dean asked. “Ow!”

“I raised you better than that!” she said in reproof. “These are dangerous times, my fine young alpha, and those who cannot keep their thoughts to themselves run the risk of following all those poor martyrs whom Queen Mary sent up in flames. Now go check on your younger brother; he has probably forgotten all about dinner having lost himself in the library again.”

Dean rubbed his ear ruefully.

“Yes, mama.”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Dangerous times they were indeed. The bloated King Henry VIII had finally gone off to terrorize the next work some eleven years back, and fortunately parliament had had the good sense to insist that he clarify the succession before he departed. Although he had bastardized both his daughters at one time or another, he had placed them back into the succession after his son Edward. There had been hopes that the boy would marry his cousin Mary and that their offspring might unite the two halves of Britain, but the Scots had instead clung to their Auld Alliance with the French, and Henry had excluded all the Stuarts from the English succession. After his own children, this devolved onto the descendants of Henry's younger sister Mary Rose, starting with the latter's daughter Lady Francis Grey.

The reigns of Henry's first two children had been pretty disastrous. Young King Edward VI, guided by his Seymour uncles, had made Protestantism the official religion (his late father would have had a fit, Mary had thought), and for six years had persecuted Catholics fiercely. When he had fallen ill and was clearly dying, he had tried to by-pass his half-sisters and make his young cousin Jane (Lady Frances' daughter) queen, the poor girl having been forced to marry the youngest son of his latest adviser, the Duke of Northumberland. But the ploy had failed; popular support had been behind Mary, and she had become queen.

Popular support had been horribly, horribly wrong. Following her marriage to her Spanish cousin King Philip II, Mary had sent nearly three hundred Protestants up in flames (she had claimed she was doing it 'for their own good', as she was purifying their souls of their corrupt bodies!). She had even threatened the life of her half-sister Elizabeth whom she had had thrown into the Tower, but with Mary Stuart waiting in the wings and betrothed to the French king's son and heir, the Spanish king had seen the desirability of placing the last of the Tudors onto the throne, even if she was a Protestant. At least she wasn't French!

Mary had come to Elizabeth's household by sheer chance. Four years after the birth of Dean, she had had a second son, an omega called Samuel. However the following year her husband, John Winchester, had been fatally injured in a fall (from the house of a lady he had been seeing whose husband had returned unexpectedly, but it was considered impolitic to mention that trifling little detail). The then-new King Edward VI, looking for people to wait on a half-sister who just might be queen one day, had chosen her. She thanked her distant cousin the Widow Harvelle who ran a tavern near London and who knew the people in charge of such decisions, a woman who was described by her clientele as 'a female Attila the Hun, but with more attitude'.

Mary did feel a little guilty in clipping her son's ear, because he was if truth be told all too right. All these people coming to the house were only looking to ingratiate themselves with the soon to be next queen, hoping for favours of one sort or another. Fools! Elizabeth Tudor was, Mary knew, very shrewd when it came to seeing through those around her. And as queen of an England broke, defenceless and surrounded by enemies, she would need to be.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

**XXIV November**  
 **Palais du Louvre (2), Paris (France)**

_“Dear Papa,_

_The news from England is not good, although it is as expected. The bastard Protestant Elizabeth has been proclaimed queen, and will doubtless be crowned very soon. She must know that half her country follows the True Faith and will not accept her. Well, we shall soon see just how much of Henry VIII's daughter she truly is._

_I am writing to you so soon because of a Development here in France, of which I believe you would wish to be apprised. It is hardly surprising, but Princess Mary (3) has yielded to her father-in-law's request and quartered her Franco-Scottish arms with those of England, thus effectively declaring her right to the English throne. No-one of any sense could doubt the rightness of her claim, of course, but I am anxious that her actions may prove somewhat precipitate. France is increasingly troubled with religious problems of its own, and is more concerned with fending off the supreme power of mighty Spain than in helping their future queen secure her rightful inheritance north of the Channel. It is all quite vexing._

_Equally of concern is that the new English monarch has appointed one William Cecil as her chief minister. He is an old friend of hers and, from his actions in the past, I judge him to be a man of considerable ability. We shall need to be wary of him._

_The court here is much as before, in that they seem to live down to that English joke that the best place to hide anything of value from a Frenchman is under a bar of soap! Seriously, I do not consider myself an ablutophile, but I have learnt to always stand upwind of certain courtiers. At least flies getting on the food is not a problem; they just fall out of the air at the stench!_

_I see dear mama is still writing her stories. It was so kind of you to send me a copy of her latest 'effort' in your last letter. Thank you _so_ much._

_Your loving son_

_Castiel'._

Castiel's younger brother and fellow omega Samandriel came in as he was finishing, and read the last few lines over his shoulder.

“That is annoying”, Castiel rumbled.

“And that is a bare-faced lie!” his sibling countered. “Why not add a postscriptum, requesting mama to send you more stories?”

“Because I want to be able to sleep at night”, Castiel said firmly, “and after her last story, I am never going to look at a scrubbing-brush in the same light again!”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

**MDLIX**  
 **IV January**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_'My dear son Castiel,_

_I trust that you are well, and everything marches for you in Foreign Parts. Things have not been good here over Christmas, I am afraid, as Michael and Lucifer have fallen out again. Lucifer is all for the people who want to 'reform' the religion and follow England away from Rome, whilst Michael is, I think, angling to become a bishop (I can picture your face at that prospect!). The rulers appointed by Queen Mary are doing their best under the supervision of her able mother Mary of Guise, but it is a thankless task. Your father suspects that the rebels are getting at least some help from England; it really was unwise of our Queen to alienate her English cousin the way she did by quartering her arms, but I suppose she is young and will make mistakes. Let us hope that they are all little ones._

_The most surprising news from England is that Philip of Spain had broken off his suit of his ex-wife's sister-in-law, and instead chosen to marry a French princess. I doubt Elizabeth is pleased at that, but I do not think she would have married him at the end of the day. Her half-sister's marriage to him was a disaster for her popularity, and the last of the Tudors needs all the support that she can get._

_Your father says that there are already some grumblings at the court in London – but not from those you might have expected. Several prominent English Protestants, who fled abroad to escape Mary Tudor, returned almost before she was cold and clearly expected the new queen to do to Catholics what Mary had done to Protestants. However, she seems too wise for such folly; those following the True Faith will doubtless be fined and a few recusants (4) may be burnt, but given the track record of Tudor monarchs and religion so far, anything would be an improvement._

_Finally, your father sends his regards at being unable to write to you himself. He sprained his wrist in the bedchamber yesterday. Because you are my dearest child, I will not tell you how, save to say that the wooden beams across the top of our four-poster bed are not as strong as they look, and are being replaced as I write._

_Your Mother_

_Postscriptum: I enclose another short story for your viewing pleasure, as Samandriel told me how much you enjoyed the last one.'_

Castiel took a deep breath.

“Alfie!” he bellowed.

There was the sound of running in the corridor outside. Castiel just sighed.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Philip II (b. 1521), King from 1556 of Spain, Naples and Sicily. Ruler over the Spanish Empire that was making short work of the native tribes in central and south America at the time, he was undoubtedly the most powerful man in the world.  
2) Now mostly the famous Louvre Museum.  
3) It was Mary who changed the spelling of the family name, from Steward (the family descended from an ancestor who had been steward, the man in charge of royal palaces and events) to the French Stuart.  
4) From the Latin _recusare_ meaning to refuse. Someone who openly practised a banned religion; most Catholics were content to pay fines and occasionally attend Protestant services since they thought that was slightly more preferable to being tied to a stake and set on fire. Can't think why. 


	2. In My Lady's Chamber (1559)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Dean Winchester gets an unexpected new job, if a potentially dangerous one, and discovers a potentially explosive situation almost at once. The situation in Scotland continues to deteriorate, whilst one prominent English nobleman goes into the wrong room. And someone gets slapped repeatedly.

In My Lady's Chamber

Young Dean Winchester gets an unexpected new job, if a potentially dangerous one, and discovers a potentially explosive situation almost at once. The situation in Scotland continues to deteriorate, and one prominent English nobleman does something decidedly unwise. Plus someone gets slapped repeatedly.

**MDLIX**   
**XIV January**   
**The Road House Tavern, near London (England)**

“You're joking!”

Mary Campbell shook her head. 

“You could have knocked me down with a feather!” she said firmly. “I mean, I thought that now she's queen, all the top families will be falling over each other to get one of their female relations into attendance on her. But it seems she is happy with those who have stood by her.”

“That's a good sign”, Ellen Harvelle said, looking pointedly at one of her customers. The man visibly reddened, and stopped slouching in his chair. “Loyalty repays itself, so they say. Any more news of the Scottish queen?”

“Still parading around France, claiming she's the rightful Queen of England” (1), Mary sighed. “Fool girl!”

“She'll have to wait awhile before she gets to queen it over the French even”, Ellen said. “Her father-in-law's what – forty? Years left in him yet, I'd have thought.”

“You never know”, Mary said sagely. “Remember he wasn't even supposed to become king in the first place, until his elder brother died unexpectedly. Game of tennis they all said, though some were suspicious at the time.”

“Like our own late and un-lamented Henry”, Ellen said, her voice dropping so she could not be overheard. “Changing the subject, do you think you will be able to get Dean and Samuel places at court?”

“The post comes with a small house, so hopefully”, Mary said. “Though I've warned Dean about any haverings he might think to get up to with those ladies-in-waiting about the place; you know what young alphas are. Fortunately he's in awe of the new queen, which should help keep him in his place.”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

**XIX January**  
 **Greenwich Palace, London (England)**

Mary Campbell looked pleasurably around her small suite of rooms. This was much better than she had expected. The Queen's Steward, a grizzled old soldier called Bobby Singer who looked as if smiling was a curse that only affected other people, explained that the rooms were in fact designed for courtiers rather than ladies-in-waiting, but the new Queen was reducing the size of her Court and there was no reason not to use these medium-sized rooms for the likes of Mary.

“It's a lot better than Stilton”, Dean enthused as he came down the stairs. “I've even got my own room.”

That was stretching things a bit, Mary thought. Her two sons had what were little more than glorified cupboards intended for the servants of courtiers, but she could understand why young boys valued this sudden privacy. Especially when one was an alpha and the other an omega.

“You will both have to be very careful”, she admonished. “One word out of place, and you may end up discovering the hard way that the woman we just crowned is still King Henry VIII's daughter. She has a bad temper when crossed, but she is always fair.”

“I'm sure that _I_ can charm her”, Dean said confidently. “I wonder....”

There was a knock at the door. All three looked up in surprise; they were not expecting anyone. Mary went across to open it, then paled when she saw who was outside.

“My Lord Cecil”, she said, curtseying deeply and uttering a silent prayer that her boys would not let her down. Fortunately she noted out of the corner of her eye that both were bowing to probably the most powerful man in England.

William Cecil was thirty-seven years old and definitely not someone one would wish to be on the wrong side of for any length of time, because that time would invariably be a short one. Dourly Protestant and almost matching Bobby Singer in his apparent aversion to smiling, the beta was (despite certain questionable manoeuvres in the past) the new queen's most trusted servant. Which of course led to the obvious question; what on earth was he doing here? 

Cecil looked around the room, and his eyes alighted on Dean. He looked the boy up and down for some little time before nodding.

“Young Lord (2) Winchester”, he said carefully. “Yes, I think you will do very well. Mistress Campbell, I wish your son to be appointed as one of the under-stewards to the Queen.”

They all gulped in surprise. That was one very huge honour.

“May we ask why?” Mary said levelly.

Cecil looked hard at her but she held his gaze confidently. He nodded.

“A lady of spirit”, he said. “It is a fair question. Mistress Campbell, your son would also be working for me. I need a number of people at court who can listen out to who says what and alert me to any possible dangers that threaten Her Majesty.”

“Dangers?” Sam asked, aghast. Cecil nodded.

“There are many people, not least the Catholic powers in Europe, who believe that the Queen's sudden demise would enable the country to be forced back into the Catholic fold”, he said. “Her Majesty is of course alert to that fact but I need every pair of eyes and ears I can get to make sure I become aware of any potential threat before it becomes a reality.”

“I'll do it!” Dean said firmly.

His mother just looked at him.

“IfmymothersaysIcan!” Dean added not at all quickly.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

**III February**  
 **Palais du Louvre, Paris (France)**

Castiel uttered a heavy sigh of relief when he saw the latest letter from home, in that there was no manuscript with it. He was still having nightmares after reading the last one; seriously, how did his mother come up with those ideas? Using a mangle like that!

Shuddering again he opened the letter:

_'My son,_

_I am afraid that the news from home is not good. The damnable Protestants continue to gather strength, and there is now talk that the Queen's half-brother, the bastard Jamie Stewart (3) is about to join their ranks. As if he needed something else to make him hate the sister who, we all know, he yearns to replace. Unfortunately the Queen's French regents seem to be ignoring the danger, despite my warnings. Fools!_

_Regretfully I am being compelled to grant the new English monarch at least a smidgen of respect, in that she has handled herself well in her first few months in power. William Cecil is proving to be a clever appointment, although I do not know whether he is a good or a bad thing for us in Scotland. On more than one occasion in the past he has spoken of the desirability of achieving a union of our two countries, although I doubt he would ever countenance a Catholic Queen Mary, especially after England's last one. We shall see._

_One thing that makes me suspect we shall have our hands full dealing with the English queen is her aid to the Protestant rebels. Naturally it would be in her interests for Scotland to become a Protestant country like England, and remove one of her many problems, but she has been very clever. I had thought we might find English coins when we raided one Protestant cell last week which would have enabled us to perhaps force her to back off, but although the silver was definitely not Scottish, it had been minted somewhere abroad before being sent here. I do not know whether this is the work of Cecil or the English Queen, but I do not like it._

_Your mother sends her regards, and promises two stories in her next edition, as she knows how much you enjoy them. She is running a little behind just now, as her wrist is sore after Balthazar told her it was impossible to slap someone sober. I would say he knows better know, but it is Balthazar, so I very much doubt it._

_Father.'_

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

**XXVII February**  
 **Greenwich Palace, London (England)**

Dean was confused.

“You did well to bring me this information”, Cecil told him, pressing his fingers together. “This is _very_ important.”

“I thought it was just gossip”, Dean said. “A man going to see a lady – surely it happens every day?”

The statesman sighed.

“The one subject you must _never_ raise in the Queen's presence is the succession”, he said firmly. “I was with her when her sister died and I saw how disgusted she was at all those courtiers who abandoned Queen Mary before she was even dead, just to 'get in' with her successor.”

“But I don't see....”

“Because of that”, Cecil interrupted, “the Queen has resolved never to let anyone know who that successor is to be. Fortunately the actions of her late father have made a total mess of things, so the actual succession is as clear as mud. One of the people with the best claims is Lady Catherine Grey, whose apartment our gentleman courtier was seen entering.”

Dean began to get it.

“And if she married and had a _male_ heir.....”

“Exactly!” Cecil cut in. “The Queen is fortunate that all the closest potential successors are female, otherwise her position would be weaker. After her half-sister, the country is not exactly minded to favour female rulers! What makes a bad situation disastrous in this case is the gentleman involved. You are _sure_ that it was Lord Hertford?” (4)

“Very sure”, Dean said firmly. “The servant told me he was a Seymour, and she described the badge he wore to me.”

Cecil winced.

“That is bad?” Dean hazarded.

“It is terrible!” Cecil told him. “Remember, the Queen's mother was beheaded so her father could marry Jane Seymour, and now that lady's nephew is threatening to make more trouble. Not that I am surprised; that family has always been power-mad. And with the new law coming in, I suppose he thinks to act fast.”

“What new law?” Dean asked.

“The Queen is going to get parliament to prohibit anyone marrying a person close to the succession without her permission”, Cecil said. “Very wise, if it is only formalizing a situation that exists already. Poor Eddie; the Queen will kill him when she finds out.”

“Will she find out?” Dean asked.

“She _always_ finds out”, Cecil said. “I shall make what moves I can to deter the man, but I doubt it will work. Well, he will have made a rod for his own back, and if he ends up in the Tower as a result, he will find the rod somewhere else as well! Thank you, Dean. You have been most helpful.”

“Yes, all this politics is fascinating”, Dean agreed.

“All what politics?” Cecil asked innocently.

Dean smiled as he accepted his coins. He would be able to buy his mother something nice tonight. He might even get Sammy a book if he wasn't too annoying when he got home. And if the moose had stopped trying to outgrow the elder and better Winchester!

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) English Catholics claimed that since King Henry VIII had never revoked the bastardization of his daughters, Elizabeth should not have succeeded to the throne. This overlooked two things; first that the Act of Succession in 1547 had placed both Elizabeth and Mary into the succession regardless, and second, those same Catholics had been strangely silent when Mary had become queen in 1553.  
2) Not of course a noble, but the honorific 'Lord' was used for any courtier.  
3) Later the Earl of Moray, born 1531. One of eight (acknowledged) bastards of his father King James V. Being illegitimate made it very unlikely (but not impossible) for him to ever become king. The current earl, John Douglas Stuart (b. 1966) is a direct descendant of his.  
4) Edward Seymour (b. 1539). His aunt had been Queen Jane Seymour, Henry VIII's third wife. His father Edward (early guardian of his nepew King Edward VI) and uncle Thomas (early paramour of Elizabeth) both ended up being beheaded. The lady he was seeing, Lady Catherine Grey, was younger sister to the ill-starred Nine Days' Queen Jane (1553), and arguably the person with the best claim to the succession. 


	3. Scotsmen And Horsemen (1559)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sees Lord Castiel Novak – quite a lot of Lord Castiel Novak – away from court for the first time. The Protestant barons continue to gain ground in Scotland whilst the new English Queen runs rings round both her parliament and several gullible foreign monarchs. A secret deal comes to light, and Dean hears a terrifying two-letter word.

Scotsmen And Horsemen

Lord Castiel Novak is re-assigned to England to monitor the court of the new Protestant Queen, but makes a poor first impression on her at a time when she is already annoyed over French matters (he is, perhaps, fortunate that with her throwing abilities she does not make an impression on him!). Dean is not the only one concerned about the prominence of the Master of the Horse at court, and there is a lot of new money.

**MDLIX**   
**XII March**   
**Palais du Louvre, Paris (France)**

“I do not see why Father has sent you a coin”, Samandriel Novak said plaintively. 

“Better that than more of mama's writings”, Castiel said firmly. “That story about the two alpha hunter brothers who were as she put it 'together together'. Ugh!”

Both men shuddered at the memory.

“This is one of the English Queen's new coins”, Castiel explained. “Elizabeth Tudor has recalled all the old money and is having it re-minted.”

“But do not most new monarchs do that?” his brother asked, “if only to get their own faces into people's pockets and memories?”

“It is more than that”, Castiel sighed. “She is setting a higher standard of silver content for the new coins, and far stiffer punishments for those who clip (1) or produce fake coin.”

“And?”

“She is also insisting on sitting in on all meetings of her Council”, Castiel sighed. “Father is afraid that she is proving a much more formidable adversary than we had first thought. He wishes me to secure a place at her court and to monitor developments.”

“You mean as a spy?” Samandriel asked.

“We are all (2) spies in this game”, Castiel said dryly. “Fortunately it is all quiet here at the moment as they finalize the treaty to end these interminable southern wars, so I should not be missed. And you can keep an eye on things here for me – because after all, no-one ever suspects the omega!”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

**XII March**  
 **Enfield Palace (3), London (England)**

Dean had just finished giving his latest report to William Cecil. To his surprise the man did not immediately dismiss him, but pressed his long fingers together and stared at him thoughtfully.

“I may have a new task for you soon, Dean”, he said slowly. “Have you heard of a man called Charles Novak?”

Dean shook his head.

“No, sir.”

“He is one of the foremost powers in the Scottish government”, Cecil smiled dourly, “which is rather curious as he makes every effort to avoid that power, only to find that he is one of the few everyone feels they can trust. He is transferring his son Castiel to attend court here in order to spy for Scotland.”

“And you wish to arrest him, sir?”

He knew at once he had said the wrong thing even if Cecil's expression did not change.

“You are young”, he said evenly, “so I will forgive that remark. A spy we are aware of is of far more use to us free than in jail. We can make sure that he finds out exactly what we wish him to find out, and nothing more. Which is where you come in.”

Dean began to have a bad feeling. The look on the Secretary's face was far too knowing. The man nodded slightly.

“The situation in Scotland is approaching critical”, he said, thankfully changing the subject slightly. “The Queen is doing everything she can to help our brothers in faith, and although I will admit that I originally gave them little chance of success, they do seem to be making good progress. It would be a great boon to have a friendly Protestant power with us on this little island rather than a hostile Catholic one, and with Scotland's ruler far away in France – well, we can but hope.”

“I see”, Dean said.

“Which is why we want to make sure of young Lord Castiel”, Cecil said. “Two things you need to know about him in particular. First, he is an omega. And second, he is barren.”

“That is rare”, Dean said.

“Rare but not unknown”, Cecil said. “And probably for the best, given his choice of employment. I trust that I can rely on you to make him.... comfortable?”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

**IV April**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“This stupid Scotsman could not have chosen a worse time to come”, Dean grumbled as he tried to lever himself into his court clothes. “This treaty has left the Queen in a foul mood.”

“Why?” his brother asked. “It went much as expected from what people say.”

“Because it confirms the loss of Calais, England's last possession on the continent”, Mary explained, making both her sons jump as she came up behind them. “The Queen is a realist but the consequences of her half-sister's foolish actions in joining her husband's war when we could contribute little or nothing – well, it rankles. And Dean is right; poor Lord Castiel could hardly have chosen a worse day for his arrival at court.”

“Where will he be staying?” Sam asked. “At one of the palaces?”

His mother shook her head.

“The Scots have their own embassy and rooms north of Whitehall”, she said, “but they are being refurbished just now, so he will have to stay in their 'spare' suite in the Palace of Westminster (4), where parliament now sits. I only hope he does nothing to upset the Queen; she is very.... well, she is very herself just now.”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

**Later that same day**  
 **St. James's Palace (5), London (England)**

Dean Winchester did not consider himself particularly educated. Indeed, he had been lucky in that, whilst his mother had been working for the then-Princess Elizabeth he had picked up some basic reading, writing and counting skills courtesy of the royal tutor who did not mind the servants sitting in on lessons so that the princess did not feel alone. And one of the things he remembered from those days was when the tutor had told him of a trip he had made to Naples, where he had stood on the slopes of the famous volcano that had destroyed the city of Pompeii.

Dean was thinking of that right now because even a young lordling could see that something was about to erupt. And that something was the Queen of England.

“I beg your pardon?” the Queen said courteously.

Dean could see several of the courtiers crossing themselves whilst others edged slowly towards the exits. Lord Castiel Novak from the Scottish court had just been presented and, incredibly even for someone of his tender years, had actually sought to lecture the Queen on a course of action. He was fortunate that he was an omega, Dean thought wryly; an alpha or beta would have gotten the Queen's full fury. 

“My country is most concerned at these efforts being made by a Mr. John Knox to penetrate its borders”, the young man said boldly. He was Dean thought pleasant enough to look at, his best feature by far being a pair of startling blue eyes. Which might well become startled black eyes if things went on the way they were.

“Indeed?” the Queen said archly. 

“Most definitely”, Lord Castiel said firmly. “As I am sure you are aware Your Majesty, he has written a most offensive publication (6) in which he denies the right of ladies such as yourselves to rule nations. My father is sure that you would not wish England to be polluted by his passing through it.”

“And why would he wish to pass through my realm?” the Queen inquired.

“To get to Scotland of course”, the visitor said. 

Dean knew from Cecil that the man had at least six brothers. His parents would not miss one boy?

“And how do you know that he wishes to come here?” the Queen asked. Lord Castiel reddened.

“He has made his intentions very clear”, he said stoutly. “He wishes to come to Scotland to support the effort of..... certain rebels who wish to change our country's religion. We do not wish him to come.”

“Well, I have no objection to the man”, the Queen said. “Unlike _someone_ I could mention, _he_ has not labelled me a bastard and publicly claimed my throne!”

Lord Castiel turned even redder. Dean bit back a chuckle; other courtiers were not so considerate.

“Then I must apologize for taking up Your Majesty's time”, he said stiffly. “Good day.”

He bowed and left, his cloak fluttering behind him like, Dean thought, a long pair of black wings.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

**VIII April**  
 **St. James's Palace, London (England)**

“It is the talk of the court”, Dean said glumly. “Only when the Queen is safely out of hearing distance, but after her giving him the Order of the Garter (7) the other day everyone is speculating that she and Lord Robert.... you know.”

“She and Lord Dudley are having sex?” Sam asked. “Ow!”

“Unless you want to end up at the wrong end of Her Majesty's displeasure, I suggest you keep such stupid remarks as that to yourself!” his mother snapped angrily. “Do not be so stupid, Samuel!”

The younger Winchester blushed. His elder brother did not snigger if only because their mother was looking at him now.

“She appointed him Master of the Horse within hours of her becoming queen”, Dean said. “And they were in the Tower of London as prisoners at the same time. Plus he is young and handsome.”

“But married”, Mary pointed out.

“Unhappily so they say”, Dean said. “His wife has never come to court since the accession. And as a Protestant he could get a divorce if he wanted – because the person who decides such thing is the Queen.”

“And she and Lord Robert”, Sam began, “are.... uh.....”

He stopped. His mother was giving him a warning look.

“Good friends?” the omega ventured.

“It is driving poor Cecil up the wall”, Dean smiled. “He keeps putting forward all these foreign rulers for her to marry and she brushes them aside, then goes out into the gardens with Lord Robert. Or as everyone calls him, 'the son of the traitor Northumberland' (8).”

“One cannot judge young men by their fathers”, his mother said. “Would either of you wish to be judged by yours, pray?”

Both boys blushed.

“Well, I am away to Westminster, to make the acquaintance of our visiting Scotsman”, Dean sighed. “Doubtless he will be a complete pr....”

His mother's look could have stopped a stampede of wild horses.

“A complete pretty awful fellow?” Dean suggested.

His mother's face told him she knew all too well what he had been about to say. Dean fled.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) It had been common practice for those in positions of power to 'clip' pieces out of coins, and then present the remainder as payment as if it was still its original value, the clippings them being made into new coins. As they could often have the luckless recipient jailed (or worse) they got away with it, but the extra money inevitably led to prices being pushed up, which of course hit the poor hardest.  
2) There were few professions open to omegas who wanted a real, paying job. The most reputable were diplomacy and the Church, since both offered certain retribution against any alphas who thought with their lower brains first. The apposite legislation was known, rather appropriately, as the 'Never Again Laws'.  
3) Also called Elsyng Palace, a large manor house built for Elizabeth by her brother Edward VI, some fifteen miles north-east of the capital. She stayed there only occasionally to hunt in nearby Epping Forest. It was demolished in the 1640s and the materials used to extend nearby Forty Hall, which is still there.  
4) The old palace, burnt down in 1834. King Henry VIII had abandoned it when he had taken over disgraced former chancellor Thomas Wolsey's York Place opposite, which became Whitehall Palace (burnt down 1698).  
5) The senior British royal palace to this day, which is why foreign ambassadors are accredited 'to the court of St. James's'. Just across Green Park from Buckingham Palace, which did not exist at the time of this story. The Crown owned the land the latter would one day stand on but were unable to obtain the freehold until they bought Buckingham House from its then owners in 1761.  
6) “The First Blast Of The Trumpet Against The Monstruous (sic) Regiment Of Women”, published just before Elizabeth came to the throne in 1558. It attacked the idea of female rulers in general. Rather bad timing on the author's part.  
7) The most important British order of chivalry, it is restricted to the monarch, their heir and only twenty-four Companions.  
8) John Dudley, the last Protector of King Edward VI who in 1553 had tried to swing the succession to poor Lady Jane Grey. She had been forcibly married to his son Guildford but the attempt cost all three their lives. Robert had also been condemned to death and was fortunate to be spared. 


	4. All-Seeing (1559)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sees Castiel – quite a lot of Castiel - away from court for the first time. The Protestant barons continue to gain ground in Scotland, whilst the new English Queen runs rings round both her parliament and several gullible foreign monarchs. A secret deal comes to light, and Dean hears a terrifying two-letter word.

All-Seeing

Dean sees Lord Castiel Novak – quite a lot of Lord Castiel Novak – away from court for the first time. The Protestant barons continue to gain ground in Scotland whilst the new English Queen runs rings round both her parliament and several gullible foreign monarchs. A secret deal comes to light, and Dean hears a terrifying two-letter word.

**MDLIX**   
**VIII April**   
**Westminster Palace (1), London (England)**

This building, the attendant at the gate had assured Dean, was around five centuries old. As he made his way through the rabbit-warren of passages, he could well believe it. Fortunately one of the doors was marked with a miniature Scottish Lion, so he assumed that that must be the one he was looking for.

He was still not exactly sure what Cecil wanted of him as regarded the Scotsman, although the pause when he had mentioned making the visitor 'comfortable' suggested all too well that he knew of Dean's tendency to.... be liberal with his favours (although when you were blest with looks like Dean....). Then again, William Cecil knew pretty much everything. 

The alpha knocked on the door. There was no answer.

He knocked again, and still nothing. He tried the handle and it was unlocked. Opening it gently, he called out quietly as he edged inside.

“Lord Novak?”

“Yes?”

How Dean managed to remain upright was a mystery to rank up there alongside that thing with the loaves and fishes. Lord Castiel Novak was indeed at home. Taking a bath. And those muscles.....

Dean uttered a silent prayer of thanks that he had worn his looser trousers.

“You must be Lord Winchester”, the Scotsman said, apparently not noticing that he was stark naked and in a bath. “I am Castiel Novak. I believe that you have been delegated with the task of showing me around?”

And with that he stood up and..... well, Dean's eyes dropped like a stone. There may have been a high-pitched cough that an unkind person would have (accurately) described as a whimper, but he would deny it to his dying day.

“Yes!” Dean said, trying to remember how to do that breathing thing. “Me. Showing you round. Yes.”

The cool amusement in those blue eyes helped Dean recover some of his addled wits, and he pulled himself together with an effort.

“Was there anything in particular you wanted to see?” he managed, quite proud he had managed a whole sentence.

Lord Novak stepped out of the tub and looked around for his towel which was draped over a chair by Dean. The Englishman grabbed it and handed it over, trying not to ogle the young man's muscular body too much. He may not have fully succeeded in that aim judging from the knowing smirk in the vicinity.

“London has many fine sights, I am sure”, Lord Novak growled, and Dean belatedly noticed that his voice was far too deep for someone so young. A voice like that belonged in the bedchamber, growling his pleasure as he....

Cecil would kill him. His mother would kill him. Unless the Queen got to him first! 

Dean moved to stand behind the nearby chair.

“You might show me round London”, Lord Novak said. “Once I am dry that is.”

“Do you wish me to call your manservant?” Dean managed.

“He is away fetching me some food and drink”, Lord Novak said. “I am sure I can dress myself – unless you wish to assist me?”

Hell yes said part of Dean which could really learn some better timing.

“I'llwaitoutside!” Dean said not at all quickly. And he did not flee the room; that table got knocked over purely by bad luck.

He was sure that he heard a snigger from outside the door. Damnation!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**IV May**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“So”, Mary Campbell said casually.

Dean froze. Any conversation begun by his mother with that two-letter word never ended well for him.

“Yes mama?” he said dutifully.

“You are showing that Scottish lord around London again today?”

“Yes mama. He wishes to see the Tower and Her Majesty has granted him access there.”

“That's the third time you've taken him out this week”, his younger brother said, looking up from his book. “And it's only Wednesday.”

“I am not taking him out!” Dean said hotly. “You make it sound like we are dating.”

“Dean and Cas, sitting in a tree, K....”

He caught his mother's expression and stopped dead. Dean allowed himself a smirk.

“Just be prepared today”, Mary advised her eldest son. “He will not be in a good mood because of the news from Scotland which I am sure must have reached him by now. It has been two days after all.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

“This is terrible!” Castiel grumbled as they left the river behind them and walked the remaining distance to the Tower. “Your queen must have known that this would happen when she let that rat Knox pass through her country.”

“As she said, at least he hasn't claimed her throne!” Dean retorted. “And with your queen's half-brother now openly siding with the Protestants and Knox providing the inspiration, Scotland may soon be as Protestant as England.”

Castiel shuddered at the thought.

“Why do we have to walk this last part?” he asked. “Does the ferryman not want a full fare or something?”

“It is London Bridge (2)”, Dean explained. “All those narrow archways make going through it dangerous. Larger craft can only get through the centre when the drawbridge is raised and that is incredibly busy; the larger boats do not always watch out for smaller craft. Every year, so I am told, foolish young Londoners try to prove their manliness by swimming through the rapids. Some do not make it.”

“The young today”, Castiel smiled. “No-one should have to prove their manliness.”

There was absolutely no reason for Lord Dean Winchester to blush that cold May day. But he did so anyway.

They arrived at the Tower to find the guards there busy. Dean knew one of them, a wiry youth with the strangest hair called Asher who was dating the Widow Harvelle's daughter Josephine (the brave man, Dean thought wryly), and asked him what was afoot.

“Twelve inches, usually”, Asher replied. Castiel snorted.

“Stop being you!” Dean grumbled. “What are you all up to?”

“Storing the latest gift of gold from the King of Sweden”, Asher grinned. “Not the only foreign monarch to be gulled into thinking enough cash will win him England without a fight.”

“That seems rather deceptive”, Castiel said reprovingly. Both men looked at him.

“That's politics”, Dean said. “Our monarch is not like some medieval king with half a dozen daughters to sell to the highest bidders. She can only offer herself. If other rulers want to give her nice gifts to win her over, well, England needs the money.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XII June**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“That was funny you have to admit”, Dean said.

His superior managed something that, if one stretched the definition, might be defined as a half-smile.

“It was.... interesting”, he conceded. “All those politicians demanding that the Queen marry and her bouncing their arguments back at them. Her marry a _foreign_ ruler? Cue the collective gasps of horror! And her marry an _Englishman?_ We all know that there is only one she would ever consider, and they would hate that even more!”

“I liked her line about being married to England”, Dean said. “Though I would wager that they have gone away to try to find some way of getting round her sophistry. And they were also complaining about the new Anglican religion, which was brave of them. Even I would not cross Henry VIII's daughter over that. Why do they not like it?”

“Because they think it is, in their eyes, not Protestant enough”, Cecil sighed. “I am impressed if not worried as to how such a young religion as Protestantism has managed so many splits in so short a time, but she is right on this. Forcing Catholics to practice their religion in private will not only allow it to quietly wither on the vine, it will also bring in much-needed funds by fining non-recusants. (3)”

They had reached the Secretary's office, and a clerk bowed to him before handing him a letter. He read it and frowned.

“Bad news?” Dean asked.

“Hopefully rather good”, Cecil said. “You may wish to be careful the next time you see young Lord Novak, for I very much doubt that he will be in a happy mood.”

“Why, sir?

“A mob led by John Knox has just sacked the cathedral at St. Andrew's, one of the principal religious sites in Scotland”, Cecil said. “And one that lies not that far north of the capital, Edinburgh. The rebels are gaining ground every day and, God willing, we may soon have our neighbour on this island in the Protestant fold.”

“Queen Mary will not like that”, Dean said.

“Her agents up there will do their best for her”, Cecil said, “but the Protestant Lords see their future as British, not as an oft-abused appendage of France. Besides, I am told that the queen and her dauphin (4) think things are fine in her absence. They are so very wrong.”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Still officially a royal palace today, part of it was given by Henry VIII to parliament in the early 1530s when he moved across the road to the then-new Whitehall Palace.  
2) 'Old' London Bridge, built in 1209; the first one at the same site had been built by the Romans shortly after their invasion in 43. The unwise decision to allow houses to be built along much of its length rendered it increasingly unable to cope with rising traffic figures; it was said to take up to an hour to cross at busy times. It would remain the only bridge in the capital until Fulham Bridge opened in 1729 and was finally replaced by 'New' London Bridge in 1831, which was later (1967) sold to Lake Havasu City in Arizona.  
3) Elizabeth was determined not to repeat her sister's mistakes of providing religions opponents with a flow of martyrs. The vast majority of Catholics were content to either pretend to be Protestants and attend church when told or just pay the fines for people who wanted to make a mild level of fuss. Of course there were some who openly practised the Old Faith and in some cases these led to burnings, but Elizabeth worked (often against her parliament's wishes) to keep these as rare as possible.  
4) Heir to the French throne, so-called because part of his ancestral lands were in the Dauphine region in southern France. 


	5. To And Fro (1559)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation in Scotland swings first one way and then the other. Lord Castiel thinks that things could not be worse, then finds out that yes, they in fact could be - and are. Dean makes a sensible choice in trousers, the King of France gets the point at last, and William Cecil indulges in a spot of alleged witchcraft to help out a certain under-steward.

**MDLIX**  
**I July**  
**The banks of the River Thames, London (England)**

“I would be within my rights”, Lord Castiel Novak said firmly, “to march right up to your queen and demand she stop interfering in my country's internal affairs.”

“Please do”, Dean said. “Just wait for me to get a mop and bucket ready first.”

“What?”

“To clean up all the blood!” Dean grinned.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

The latest news from France had had the Scotsman seething, and he had complained bitterly to Dean when he had arrived that morning. English agents in France had, it seemed, arranged for the Earl of Arran (1) to elude his French pursuers, and doubtless the man was now somewhere _en route_ to Scotland. If he made it there, he would become an important figure amongst the Lords of the Congregation, the rebel Protestant barons holding out in Fifeshire just north of Edinburgh.

“And you have proof of the Queen's involvement?” Dean asked.

From the sullen glare he got in response, that would be a no.

“That bastard Throckmorton (2) has been involved”, Castiel snapped. “I doubt he has suddenly taken to roving around France for his health.”

 _“No proof!”_ Dean said in a sing-song voice. It was fun needling the Scotsman, because he then brought the full force of those blue eyes upon him, eyes that he could get lost in, eyes that.....

He really needed to stop borrowing those books that Steward Robert Singer never read.

“This could not be worse!” Castiel grumbled.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**II July**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

“This could not be worse!” 

“You said that yesterday”, Dean smirked. “Remember, tomorrow could yet prove you wrong.

“The Regent's forces have been defeated at Cupar” (3), Castiel sighed. “I really thought she was going to take the rebels' base at St. Andrew's. But apparently the time is not yet right.”

“You mean that she was defeated”, Dean grinned. 

“A strategic withdrawal”, Castiel huffed.

He glared at the Englishman, who seemed to have been taken with a sudden coughing fit.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**X July**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

Dean had guessed that something was up, because Cecil's offices were suddenly that much more busy than usual every time he had called in the past week or so. He had, if truth were told, almost missed it, having been distracted by a gorgeous, muscled, bod....

Thank the Lord for loose-fitting trousers. If not for mothers who had a habit of looking knowingly at him of a morning!

Cecil bade him sit down, and stared at him for some considerable time before speaking. Dean did not fidget. Much.

“A most worrying development has occurred”, the secretary said at last. “Last week, the King of France took part in a jousting tournament.”

Dean winced. Such events were a hangover from centuries past and, in his eyes, not at all glamorous or exciting. Or even worth sneaking away from court to go and see. And that was not because his mother had threatened to whack him if he ever went near anoth.... one of them.

“Such things are by their nature dangerous”, Cecil said, smiling slightly for some reason, “and for King Henry, they proved fatal. He died from his injuries yesterday.”

Dean was impressed that the Secretary knew that fact within a single day.

“I do not know what will happen to that Scottish friend of yours”, Cecil said, “but I think that it is important that you retain some degree of... friendship with the gentleman. Events in Scotland are also progressing, and he may be sent to either country.”

“I don't know any French”, Dean said dubiously.

“I do not think it would serve to send you there”, Cecil said. “It is my guess that Lord Castiel would prefer to end up in Scotland; his father is already poised to appoint his elder brother to the staff of his country's embassy here.”

“What is his name?” Dean asked politely.

“Lucifer Novak.”

Dean's eyes widened.

“They named a son of theirs after the devil?” he asked.

“Lord Charles's wife, Lady Rebecca, chose the names for her sons and her daughter”, Cecil said. “A most formidable lady. And by formidable, I mean terrifying; I once mischanced to read one of the short stories she wrote, and I am still not able to look at a milking-stool without shuddering!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIII July**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

_'Dear son,_

_The news from home is not good. Not good at all. Those rebel Lords of the Congregation have somehow succeeded in taking Edinburgh, and the Regent has had to retreat to Dunbar along the coast. However, she is expecting reinforcements from her native France, and when they come all should be well again._

_Lucifer has persuaded me to send him as a junior clerk to our embassy in England. I was initially reluctant, but putting four hundred miles between him and Michael can only be a good thing, and your mother..... well, she persuaded me.'_

Castiel took a moment to weep inside.

_'Although I fully expect the Regent to take back the capital, I am uneasy about her future prospects. This bastard John Knox is horribly effective in his preachings, and despite having a country as spread out as our own (4), his message seems to have penetrated deeply. It is incredibly vexing to have our head of state in another country although I am sure that now she is Queen of France, she will be in a position to send us more help. We may need it._

_I enclose another of your mother's stories for your delectation. You will notice a change in the handwriting; I had to employ a secretary after your mother persuaded me.... well, let us not go into that again._

_Father'_

Seriously, Castiel was going to start opening letters from home with a pint of ale to hand!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XVII August**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

“Any more news from Scotland?” Dean asked.

“Indeed”, Castiel smiled. “My Queen has sent two thousand men to reinforce the Regent, and the rebel lords have been forced to abandon Edinburgh. I do not doubt that your Lord Cecil is spitting feathers at that.”

“I doubt that 'my Lord Cecil' has ever spat in his life”, Dean said. “I have never seen him out of black, he never smiles, and he even rides a mule rather than a horse. But doubtless he is monitoring developments. He is concerned about the Pensacola (5), I am sure.”

“Is that a type of drink?” Castiel asked, confused. Dean laughed.

“No, a tribe over in the Americas”, he said. “The Spanish are trying to establish themselves on the mainland for some reason. I doubt they will find much there; certainly not the riches they have found on the islands and in those poor civilizations they are busy dispossessing. No-one will ever settle the American mainland.”

“Spreading Catholicism amongst, not dispossessing”, Castiel said, a little sententiously Dean thought. “My brother was presented at court yesterday.”

“I saw”, Dean said. “Rare indeed for a queen to meet someone named for the devil himself! But he seems a solid enough fellow.”

“For a Protestant”, Castiel sighed. 

It took Dean perhaps a shade too long to take offence at that remark.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**II September, MDLIX**  
 **Greenwich Palace, London (England)**

If discomfort had a face, it was that of the corpulent and rather short gentleman stood in front of William Cecil just now. And Dean was not smirking about it.

The secretary shot him a look. Apparently Dean was smirking after all.

“Mr. Watts!” the secretary said, looking his visitor up and down. “Thank you _so_ much for coming.”

All the way from Charing (6), Dean thought. Nearly a whole mile. He did not look again at the two men, concentrating on his book.

“Rather disturbing news has reached me, Mr. Watts”, Cecil smiled dourly. “It seems that certain people in your village, almost within sight of this place, have apparently decided that a local lady whose movements are a tad irregular must therefore be a witch.”

“Mistress Barnes sir, she..... uh.....”

It would have taken a braver man to face up to the Secretary's stony look, which Dean knew he was getting even without looking himself. Cecil sighed in a put-upon way.

“You see Mr. Watts, it is like this”, he explained patiently. “Governments like that of the Queen need all sorts of people to do all sorts of tasks, some of which may seem somewhat strange to the.... less well-educated.”

Ouch, Dean thought.

“And the people who do those tasks can sometimes be mistaken for what they are not”, Cecil said.

His visitor gasped.

“You... you are saying that Mistress Barnes....”

“I am saying nothing, Mr. Watts”, the Secretary said smoothly. “Indeed I have said nothing. Nothing was said in this room that was of any import at all. I hope that you understand that fully – _for all our sakes!”_

That would require a brain, Dean thought cattily. He was sure that Cecil was shooting him a look just then.

“However”, the Secretary went on, “ _hypothetically_ , if it were to be the case that, due to the foolish actions of a random alderman of a small village somewhere or other, a person working for Her Majesty's government was put in danger.... well, I am sure that that random alderman of a small village somewhere or other would not wish to have to explain himself to Her Majesty _in person_. She is not known for her toleration over such matters, and the length and breadth of Tudor torture techniques is impressively wide.”

“No, sir! I mean, yes sir! I mean......”

“That will be all”, Cecil smiled. _“For now.”_

The man almost fell over his feet as he fled the room. Cecil smiled dourly.

“You may tell the Widow Harvelle that her friend will no longer be inconvenienced by certain judgemental personages”, he said. 

Dean smiled. Sometimes it paid to have friends in high places.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1)1) James Earl of Arran (b. 1532), the former regent mentioned earlier. He was also heir presumptive after Mary Stuart. He suffered an attack of mental illness in 1562 and fell from the political scene, but his lineage survived and his direct ancestor Alexander Douglas-Stuart ((b. 1978) is the current earl.  
2) Nicholas Throckmorton (b.1515), Elizabeth's ambassador to France. Unusually he had been employed by her half-sister for a time, but he and the queen were old friends and he kept his post on her accession.  
3) Cupar lies over thirty miles NNE of Edinburgh and ten miles from St. Andrews, both towns being on the Fife Peninsula. Control of this was important both because of the religious centre at St. Andrews and because it cut off the more Catholic northern Scotland.  
4) Scotland at the time had about the same population density as the state of Nebraska today (2018), about 26 people per square mile.  
5) The town of Pensacola can claim to be the first European settlement in the modern United States (not in the Americas; the Vikings settled briefly in Newfoundland). The first town, named after the local tribe, was short-lived; barely a month after it had been founded it was smashed to pieces by a terrible storm.  
6) A small village squeezed in between the cities of Westminster and London. Long built over but remembered in the name of Charing Cross, a major London railway station. The site of the cross itself, now marked with a statue of King Charles I, is the point from which all distances to and from London by road are measured. 


	6. Nosing Forward (1559)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer Novak makes an impression at the English court (several impressions, mostly in certain omega courtiers' beds!), whilst as the situation in Scotland hangs in the balance, Queen Elizabeth gambles and sends in the English fleet. A titled lady dies to the pleasure of probably rather too many people, there is a new and nosey Archbishop of Canterbury, and Dean has a 'ropey' moment.

**MDLIX**   
**XI September**   
**Westminster Palace, London (England)**

“The Queen was in a good mood today”, Dean said to Cecil as he sat in the secretary's office. “One of the lesser courtiers raised the matter of the succession, and she did not even throw anything at him!”

Cecil chuckled.

“I told her the news from Scotland”, he said. “Doubtless your Lord Castiel is seething at the moment.”

Dean was not quite sure he liked the young Scotsman being referred to as 'his Lord Castiel', even if he had thought... well, it was never going to happen anyway.

“What news, may I ask?” he said.

“The Earl of Arran has finally made it to his native land and has assumed leadership of the Lords of the Congregation”, Cecil smiled. “I have some doubts as to his physical capabilities but none as to the soundness of the man's religion, and that is what matters just now. And he is much more liked than Jamie Stuart, although that is not difficult. The French Regent may have regained Edinburgh but Knox has turned nearly the whole country against her. Or at least the more populous southern part, which actually matters.”

“Is the Queen prepared to support the Lords further yet?” Dean asked. “You said she was in two minds about it.”

Cecil sighed.

“I know that they say that it is a lady's prerogative to change her mind”, he said, “but sometimes she is impossible! Fortunately this retaking of Edinburgh has I think persuaded her to send the Fleet against Leith.”

“Where?” Dean asked.

“That is the port of Edinburgh”, Cecil explained. “I do not underestimate Mary of Guise; the late King James' widow would have made a fine general had she been a man, and if she is not busy fortifying both town and port right now then I'm a Dutchman!” (1)

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**I October**  
 **Hatfield Palace (2), near London (England)**

“You cannot pretend that it is a good thing.”

Dean scowled at the young man walking beside him in the palace grounds.

“The Queen is allowed to have friends”, he said defensively.

“But everyone, here _and_ abroad, thinks that she and this Robert Dudley are more than just 'friends'”, Castiel said. “The son of a traitor? Hardly king material!”

“The Queen will never marry him”, Dean said confidently.

“Well, she will have to marry someone”, Castiel said, “or my mistress will become queen next.”

“Queen Mary is debarred from the throne by an Act of Parliament” (3), Dean pointed out.

“Words scratched on a piece of parchment!” Castiel said scornfully. “Words that could easily be scratched out and have other words written over them; you know that as well as I do. Besides the country is hardly overflowing with Protestant alternatives.”

“There is Lady Catherine Grey”, Dean said. “She is not yet twenty years of age.”

“Poor girl”, Castiel said. “Doubtless the Queen is already going through the catalogues and choosing her a husband.”

“Well she can hardly choose one herself, can she?” Dean said.

Castiel looked sharply at him.

“Gossip is that she is favoured by Lord Hertford”, he said. “Possibly the person at the bottom of the list of suitable candidates for her hand, as he is nephew to the woman who replaced the Queen's mother in her father's wandering affections.”

“One should never listen to gossip”, Dean grinned. “After all 'they' also say that a certain person with, ahem, a demonic name has been sighted coming out of the bedroom of a certain omega courtier who is the offspring of the weathercock Lord Pembroke (3) – and despite his vacillations that is not someone I myself would wish to cross.”

Castiel stared at him incredulously.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**II October**  
 **On the banks of the River Thames, London (England)**

“I know that the word is an alien one to you”, Castiel grumbled, “but could you not at least _try_ to be discreet?”

The tall blond alpha sniggered.

“Why, when the prize is so alluring?” he smiled. “I take it that someone saw me and it got back to you?”

“Never mind getting back to me”, Castiel snorted. “It's bad enough that Dean – Lord Winchester knows. If he has heard of it then you can be as sure as mutton that his conniving master Cecil does too, and he will find a way to use it against me or our country. Or both. Who was it? I did not know that Pembroke had any omega sons.”

“His bastard omega offspring, William Junior.”

Castiel just sighed. His brother was impossible!

“Do not look at me like that, brother”, Lucifer said with a knowing smile. Just remember; I am not the only one at court being gossiped about because people think a close friend of his is a little too close – like you and as you call him, _Dean_.”

Castiel grabbed the railing in front of him. This was.... him and Dean... no. Just no!

Well...... no!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XX November**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“I note that the Earl of Pembroke has withdrawn his bastard omega son from court”, Cecil said casually. “And the Queen has commented that we are seeing rather less of Lord Castiel Novak as of late.”

“Yes”, Dean said shortly.

“Fortunately she is in a good mood today”, Cecil smiled. “News has reached her that Lady Frances Brandon has died.”

“She was nominated as heir by King Henry one time, was she not?” Dean asked.

“Placed in the succession after his children, but 'generously' stood aside so her poor eldest daughter could take the prize”, Cecil said dourly. “Which leaves us with her remaining daughters, the unwise Lady Catherine and the unseen Lady Mary.”

“Why is Lady Mary not at court?” Dean wondered. “She would be quite close to the succession.”

“She is apparently inflicted with the curse of dwarfism”, Cecil said. “Though given the Queen's reaction to matters concerning the succession, perhaps it may be a blessing in a rather poor disguise!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXII December**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“I will not allow it!” Mary Campbell said firmly. “My boy is but thirteen years of age!”

William Cecil bit back the thought that his life seemed rather too full of powerful ladies who clearly thought a woman's place was ordering a man about. And that despite her fragile appearance he did not doubt that the lady before him could give Her Majesty a run for her money when it came to getting her own way. John Knox had been so right about the fairer sex.

“The Queen has agreed to send the fleet to Scotland”, he said, “to assist in blockading the French in and around Edinburgh so as to assist the Protestant Lords. The situation up there hangs in the balance, and it would be to England's great benefit if the True Faith became established both sides of Hadrian's Wall.”

“But you do not need a thirteen-year-old boy to do it”, Mary said firmly.

“The new Archbishop of Canterbury (5) was greatly impressed with the boy's reading at his inauguration this week”, Cecil said. “And I think you will have to agree, he does look somewhat older considering his impressive stature.”

“Worse luck!” Dean muttered. His omega brother's abject failure to stop growing was a sore point between the siblings.

“Samuel would be a junior cleric on ship, and would not be required to go ashore even”, Cecil said reassuringly. “And as it is one of the Queen's ships, every sailor on board will know that that would have to answer to her if anything happened to him.”

“I am sure that the Scots will fire at those ships”, Mary said with a heavy sigh. “But I suppose all boys must grow up some time. If my son wishes to go North my Lord, I shall not stand in his way.”

There was a poorly-suppressed whoop of joy from a nearby room.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**Later that same day**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

“My father has summonsed Luke back to Scotland”, Castiel told Dean. “Apparently his fourth omega courtier was one too many. Poor fellow.”

“Your father is not a violent man?” Dean asked anxiously. 

Castiel laughed.

“Father does not have a bad bone in his body”, he said firmly. “Mother on the other hand will make him rue the day he was born!”

Dean shuddered at the mention of Lady Novak. He had some time ago read one of her stories that Castiel had 'kindly' loaned him, and.... well, he would always shudder every time he saw hanging ropes in future. Honestly, a bell-ringer caught up by his.... how did a lady think up such things?

“At least Luke will not have to ride the whole way”, Castiel said. “Your queen has agreed to his having a place on one of the transport ships, and he can be dropped off when they take on provisions at Berwick or maybe even Dunbar. Forty miles is infinitely better than four hundred!”

“It is fortunate that your father is known for not taking sides”, Dean said, “otherwise she would not have done that. Fortunately everyone knows he is all for his figures and his country, regardless of who is in power.”

“Except when Mother 'wants' him”, Castiel said, shuddering delicately.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Common expression of the time, now rarely heard, which expresses incredulity at something. The Dutch, at this time under Spanish rule, were famous for overblown promises that were not usually followed up on. Similar expressions are Dutch courage (false bravery through alcohol), going Dutch (paying for something yourself that you might have expected for free) and double Dutch (incomprehensible language).  
2) The former Hatfield House, one of Queen Elizabeth's favourite places because she had happy memories of her time there after being released from the Tower, including her becoming Queen. Her successor King James VI and I did not like it, and gave it to William Cecil's son Robert. The latter's direct descendant, Robert Gascoyne-Cecil Marquess of Salisbury (b. 1946) who sat in both the Commons and the Lords, still lives there today.  
3) This was confusing, even for those times. Henry VIII's Act of Succession had debarred the direct Scottish line from inheriting the English throne, but it was unclear whether the ban extended to all issue of his elder sister Margaret who had married three times. Her first marriage to King James IV of Scotland had produced James V, father of Mary Stuart, while his second had produced Margaret Douglas, father of Henry Lord Darnley whom Mary would later marry.   
4) William Earl of Pembroke (b. 1501). Weathercock indeed; he swung violently between Protestant and Catholic depending who was on the throne. His bastard son is fictional, but his reason son Philip, also Earl of Pembroke, was one of King James VI and I's male favourites. The earldom survives today in the form of their direct descendant the current earl, William Alexander Sidney Herbert (b. 1978).  
5) Matthew Parker (b.1504). His attempts to guide the Church of England towards a mild Protestantism was opposed by some Puritans who felt that he was not going far enough. It was they who, because of his constant inquiring into their activities, labelled him the original Nosey Parker. 


	7. The Devil In The Detail (1560)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William Cecil makes a marque but not a mark. Young Samuel Winchester gets to join the English fleet as it prepares to go to the aid of the Protestant Scottish Lords but there are complications that no-one could have foreseen. And his alpha brother faces a test without even knowing it – but fortunately one good turn deserves (and gets) another.

**MDLX**   
**I January**   
**On the banks of the River Thames, London (England)**

“It's disgraceful!” Castiel growled as both young men looked downstream towards the walls of London. “Your queen has no right to interfere in the affairs of a sovereign nation!”

“As opposed to your queen, who apparently does have the right to claim the throne of a sovereign nation?” Dean asked dryly. 

Castiel glared at him. Dean tried not to think how blue the omega's eyes were. Unsuccessfully.

“Queen Mary has a blood claim to English throne”, the Scotsman said firmly. 

“But not a legal one”, Dean countered. “As I've said before the Scottish descendants of Henry VII were barred from the succession under an Act of Parliament.”

“A talking-house for those with money!” Castiel said scornfully. 

“Their money keeps the country going”, Dean pointed out. “That's why England is so rich – compared to _some_ countries I could mention.”

That earnt him another glare from those impossibly blue eyes.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**III January**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“Small beer (1), Sammy?”

His little brother (who was now nearly as tall as him now, worse luck!) scowled at him.

“I think I am allowed the real thing now”, he said crossly, “as I shall be having it on the ship.”

_“Oh will you now?”_

Dean bit back a snigger as their mother almost magically appeared right behind the moose, making him jump in shock.

“I mean”, Sam spluttered, “only... if there is.... nothing else....”

Their mother eyed him balefully. 

“Well, I have heard that you will have to drink regular beer on board....”

She watched her younger son closely but he managed not to crow. Dean did not manage not to smirk, by a long way.

“But I will have someone monitoring you”, she said (Dean's smirk widened as his brother turned pale again at that). “Lord Castiel's brother Lucifer is returning to Scotland and he has said that he will stay on board and keep an eye on you all the way.”

“Oh, Lord Castiel”, Sam said. “Dean's _special_ friend.”

Dean stared hard at his brother but received a purely innocent expression in return. Which he did not believe for one damn minute!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXII January**  
 **Greenwich Palace, London (England)**

“Dean?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Can you deliver this to the address on it?” Cecil asked. “It is near the docks.”

Dean nodded and took the letter. The Secretary smiled.

“You do not ask what it contains?” he asked.

“You would tell me if I needed to know”, Dean said confidently. “And if I needed to not know I would doubtless be a lot safer.”

“Good answer”, Cecil said. “It is a letter of marque.”

“Marking what?” Dean asked, confused.

“Marque with a 'q', not a 'k'”, the Secretary explained. “From an old word meaning to seize as a pledge. It allows the recipient to conduct certain actions against vessels which the French and Scots might send against our noble ships currently besieging Leith.”

“Is that not piracy?” Dean asked, confused.

“Of course not!” Cecil said, looking shocked. “ _Piracy_ is quite illegal, and frowned upon by all. _Privateering_ on the other hand is perfectly acceptable.”

The French or Scots might disagree on that, Dean thought. He was wise enough to not say that, but from the Secretary's face he had guessed his thoughts anyway.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**III February**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

“It was very good of your brother to send Sammy's letter in the diplomatic mail”, Dean said as they sat playing cards in the Scotsman's room. “Mama did not expect to hear from him during his time on board ship.”

“He said everything was fine?” Castiel asked absent-mindedly.

“You did not read the letter?” Dean asked, surprised.

“I am sure that either Luke or my father did”, Castiel admitted, “but I saw no need to do such a thing. The thoughts of a young omega priest in training aboard an English transport ship are most unlikely to be that earth-shattering.”

Dean looked hard at his friend.

“Yet there is something worrying you”, he said shrewdly. “What is it?”

“May I ask you a somewhat personal question?” Castiel asked. “You do not have to answer.”

“Of course”, Dean said.

“Does your brother have a potential future mate?”

That did surprise the Englishman. He thought for a moment before answering.

“I suppose there is young Master Bartholomew”, he said at last. “A beta; his father is a friend of my late father and the family run an import business in the docks. My mother has spoken of the desirability of such a match from time to time but I doubt that she would ever compel Sammy to marry against his wishes. Unlike too many parents these days I might add.”

“And is your brother inclined towards this 'Master Bartholomew'?” Castiel pressed.

Dean laughed.

“Sons of servants do not usually marry for love”, he chuckled. “They have met and they are friends. Besides Sammy is still but a teenager.”

“I think I should tell you”, Castiel said carefully, “that your younger brother has developed what I believe in the common parlance is called a crush.”

“Well, we know what sailors are!” Dean laughed.

“On my brother Luke.”

Dean suddenly stopped laughing. 

“But he is, what, twenty-three?”

“Yes, positively ancient”, Castiel agreed. “He wrote to me privately; he finds it rather embarrassing especially as he gave your mother his word that he would keep an eye on the boy. So he can hardly put any distance between them, at least not until this business is over.”

“Oh”, Dean said heavily.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXVIII February**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

Working with a female monarch was, William Cecil knew, unpredictable. One never knew just what was coming next.

“Lord Dean Winchester”, the Queen said suddenly, looking up from where she had just signed the Treaty of Berwick. “Is he _really_ trustworthy?”

“I believe so, Your Majesty”, Cecil said smoothly. “Unless something has reached your ears that suggests otherwise. It has not yet reached mine.”

“Lord Robert says that he is a little too friendly with the Scotsman staying at Westminster, Lord Charles Novak's son”, she said, frowning. “The man is barren I know, but Lord Robert wonders.”

Lord Robert should keep his elegant nose out of the country's business, Cecil thought sharply. And preferably out of court altogether.

“I believe that young Dean may develop into a most useful tool in the defence of our realm”, Cecil said. “Indeed his friendship with Lord Castiel may I think be turned to our advantage one day. But if Your Majesty has any doubts about him perhaps we might take the opportunity about to present itself to see if he really is trustworthy.”

“And how do I know you would not let him in on what we are planning yourself?” the Queen smiled.

“Because I myself would like to be one hundred per cent sure”, Cecil said, “before I entrust him with still more important matters. We know that in the next few weeks a certain someone will strike at the French king and his Scottish queen. I of course have no love for either of them nor I am sure do you, but one cannot stand by and allow fellow monarchs to be subject to such things or there would be anarchy. And when it becomes known later that you warned them....”

“I am sure that you will make it well known”, the Queen smiled. “Go on.”

“I recommend entrusting Lord Dean with the secret”, Cecil said. “Only you, I and he will know it. Our agents in France are on the alert so if King Francis receives news before we send him the official warning in two weeks' time, we will know both that there has been a leak and who did it. And it will not matter if the French king is warned early.”

“A pity if so”, the Queen said. “He seems a likeable lad. I should so hate to see that nice alpha body being hung, drawn and quartered.” (2)

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**II March**  
 **Greenwich Palace, London (England)**

Because of his job Dean did not get to spend as much time at the Road House as he would have liked. Fortunately the Queen was visiting one of her noblemen who lived near the capital (or as Cecil had put it, 'reducing housing costs by treating herself to a free holiday at someone else's expense') so Dean had a weekend to himself. And as his mother would insist on his attending church tomorrow at least today he could have a drink and relax.

The Widow Harvelle's tavern was well-situated (3) at where the main road into London from the west forked, with the by-road heading down to the palaces of Whitehall and Westminster. It was busier than Dean had expected, so he had helped out behind the bar for a while until things had died down, and had then sat down to enjoy his beer. Until someone sat down opposite him.

“Mistress Barnes?” he asked, surprised.

“I just thought I should come and warn you”, the woman said, looking strangely uncertain for her (Dean was not sure whether she really was a witch but he sensed it was not something that he should inquire into, either way). “It concerns this French plot.”

Somehow Dean was not the least bit surprised that she knew.

“Have you talked to your Scottish friend about it?” she asked.

“I have not”, Dean said. “I suppose that I should warn him but....”

“You must not.”

“What? Why?”

“Lord Cecil is testing you”, she said warningly, “to see if you do pass this news on. He and the Queen fully intend to warn the French anyway – you know how strong she is on the rights of monarchs, even those she dislikes intensely – but they wish to see if you will betray them first. Be warned.”

She was gone before Dean could say anything. He blinked several times into his beer and thought hard.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Beer was the common drink for nearly everyone in these times, since the rivers that water came from were also used as sewers, which meant.... yes. The brewing process killed most germs; a special weaker beverage was made for children called small beer, hence the phrase for something less important that it might have seemed.  
2) In this barbaric medieval punishment, the victim was hung until almost dead and then cut down, the body being cut into six parts which were subsequently often displayed on city walls. The main body was cut into quarters, but two other parts were cut off first; the head and.... well, let's just say it was restricted to men only!  
3) Modern Hyde Park Corner. 


	8. Guises And Disguises (1560)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plot against the rulers of France misfires and over a thousand people are put to death as a result. French distraction however is British opportunity, and after some initial setbacks the Protestant Scottish lords are victorious in throwing over their French masters. Castiel lets something slip and both he and Dean are increasingly concerned about young Samuel Winchester.

**MDLX**   
**XIX March**   
**Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“Tell me”, Lord Cecil asked far too casually, “how goes it with that Scottish friend of yours?”

Dean took care before answering.

“He has been through it these past twenty-four hours”, he said at last. “First of course the news from France where there was that plot against his mistress Queen Mary.”

“It seems to have taken him quite by surprise”, Cecil observed with a faint smile. “But then such events often do.”

“Yes, by surprise”, Dean said carefully, wondering if the Secretary had been behind that 'surprise'. “And then the news from Scotland; first that the Regent had gained a major victory at Glasgow, but then that she had been forced to retreat on the capital because she had found herself outnumbered.”

“The Queen places great hope that our own army which is assembling in the North may prove decisive”, Cecil said. “I do not share her optimism, I am afraid. Nine thousand men sound a lot but the days of our great victories at Cressy and Azincourt are long behind us. Still at least we have the Fleet.”

Dean thought instinctively of his brother, ministering to the sailors' spiritual needs on some leaky transport ship. 

“We are fortunate that the Regent's brothers (1) are the power behind the throne in France just now”, Cecil said. “They are bitterly unpopular over there and are fully focussed on defending their own positions, so they will not be able to aid their sister much. We are approaching the decisive moment up there, Dean.”

“Indeed”, Dean sighed, still thinking of his brother.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXVII March**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

“I wish I had better news to pass on to my Queen”, Castiel sighed. “She could do with all the good news that she can get just now.”

“The reprisals against the rebels over there?” Dean guessed. His friend nodded.

“They talk of over a thousand dead”, he said. “Religion is behind it of course; King Francis has always striven to maintain a more moderate line, but he is weak.”

“In every sense”, Dean said. 

“What do you mean by that?” Castiel demanded.

“Well”, Dean said slowly, “consider it from the point of view of the Guises who rule France in all but name. If King Francis lives for even a few more years and can get himself an heir by Queen Mary, then his position would be much stronger. She might even become regent for the boy if the father died. But if the king dies before he can beget an heir.... well, his brother Charles is not yet ten years old. Plenty of years in which the Guises might enrich themselves.”

“The boy is said to dislike them intensely though”, Castiel said. “And why must you always think the worst of people?”

“Because the worst is usually true!” Dean retorted. 

The Scotsman glared at him. His friend did not have to be so... right!

“The king is nearly sixteen now and must surely set about producing an heir one way or another”, Castiel said. “For Scotland's and France's sakes.”

“Why Scotland's?” Dean asked. “If Queen Mary dies without an heir then Arran will inherit, and even if his health gives way he already has sons?”

“Oh yes”, Castiel said absent-mindedly. “I had forgotten about that.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXVII March**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“You do not think that he had forgotten?” Cecil asked.

“He seemed to think that a possible child was a matter for both Scotland _and_ France”, Dean said.

“Which it would be”, Cecil said, frowning.

“Yes”, Dean said slowly, “but it was the _way_ that he said 'one way or another'. And he looked slightly guilty for some reason. I wonder if there is something in this marriage that we do not know about.”

“If there is”, Cecil said grimly, “we had better remedy that. I shall set Throckmorton about the matter at once.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**III April, MDLX**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

“Your suspicions were quite correct, Dean”, Cecil said grimly. “It is worse than we feared. When she married the dauphin as he was then, Queen Mary agreed to a most unusual clause in the marriage contract. If she dies first, then the Scots throne will pass to any offspring of his from any future marriage. Arran would be disinherited.”

“I do not know the gentleman”, Dean said, “but I cannot see the Scottish barons accepting such a thing let alone the fact they are already in rebellion against their monarch.”

“Indeed” the Secretary said grimly. “I think that we might communicate details of this finding to certain of the Scottish barons, just so they know they are fighting for even more than their immortal souls. And you, Dean, shall have a large bonus.”

The young alpha beamed.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XI May**  
 **On the banks of the River Thames, London (England)**

“I would have thought that _you_ would have been overjoyed”, Dean observed. “The Queen is livid at the setback; she had set great faith in her army.”

Castiel sighed.

“I am sure that if the news has reached me, then your Lord Cecil must know of it”, he said. “The Regent has been taken ill in Edinburgh.”

Dean's eyes widened.

“That is not good for your side”, he said. “She is pretty much all that's holding the French position together up there, especially with her brothers making such a mess of France.”

“They are not doing that badly”, Castiel said defensively.

“Those reports of over all those killed because of this plot against their 'rule' turned out to be all too true”, Dean pointed out. “Not that badly?”

Castiel sighed.

“My brother Luke writes me as well”, he said. “Your brother Samuel still has what he calls a crush on him.”

“I do hope that Satan is not encouraging it”, Dean said.

“For all his demonic name and heretic religion, Luke is probably amongst the most moral of my siblings”, Castiel said. “I think that he finds your brother attractive but he would never act upon such a thing until the boy came of age. And he is years from that as of yet.” (2)

“Just as well”, Dean said firmly. “My mother would kill him.”

“She would not”, Castiel said equally firmly.

“Why not?” Dean asked.

“Because _my_ mother would get there first!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIII June**  
 **Eltham Palace (3), Kent (England)**

“I do not like this place!” Cecil sighed. “It brings on my gout.”

“I suppose it is healthier than being in London”, Dean admitted. “That horseman who rode in in the small hours of the morning brought good news, I trust?”

“Certainly far from discreet”, Cecil sighed, “yelling 'news, news!' all the way up to the gate. Fortunately it was news of the sort that will soon be common currency anyway and there is little to gain by holding it back. Mary of Guise has died.”

“I am sure Queen Mary and her French court are already speculating that we were behind it”, Dean observed. “Or that the Scottish Lords were.”

“I looked at the prospect but the risks were too great”, Cecil admitted. “Her murder might well have sparked anti-English feeling up there just when we least needed it. I do worry about what sort of Protestantism the Scottish Lords will eventually decide upon – considering their performance thus far I do not expect any rapid agreement on that, if on anything – but the French are defeated for now and will have to treat.”

“Ten to one says that King Francis and Queen Mary will not honour any deal”, Dean said.

“You are probably right”, Cecil said. “We have in view of how things looked at the start been exceedingly fortunate. The French king is physically weak – I doubt he will make twenty the way that he is going – but his Scottish wife's absence from her native land has denied her Catholic subjects a critical focus that they could have rallied around. We must now speed talks to a conclusion lest she decides to suddenly go home and wreck things!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**VII July**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

_'My dear son Castiel,_

_I am afraid that the news from home is still not good. We had held out hopes that the French might send further aid to assist their troops trapped in the capital but alas! none came. They have had to agree this Treaty of Edinburgh with the rebel barons which means that we are now officially a Protestant country. Or will be when that insufferable John Knox decides on which of the thousand and one forms of Protestantism we should take. Your father is Displeased but then he will work for the good of Scotland under whomsoever is in charge._

_Gabriel and Balthazar are both in gaol again as they were involved in an ill-timed prank against Lord Home. Poor Alex's (4) hands are still bright blue, and he rightly blamed Gabriel for the whole business. And Balthazar's remark that he was lucky it was only his hands and not certain other appendages dipped in the bath water – well, I am sure your father will bail them both out. Next week, if I remember to let him._

_Lucifer came to see me the other week, and told me about a certain matter he has mentioned to you concerning a young – a_ very _young – English omega whom you apparently know something of. I have told him what I think, and precisely what I will do to him if he behaves in a manner I consider Improper. He seemed surprised that I had acquired such language although when I mentioned that his father too used it at, ahem, certain times of Great Excitement, he turned a rather worrying shade of white and had to leave unexpectedly. Strange._

_You will be pleased to know that the recent troubles have not stopped my writings and I enclose another story for your enjoyment. Lucifer said how much you enjoyed the one about the nervous beadle and the cowman in disguise._

__Your ever-loving Mother'._ _

_Castiel shuddered. Some day they would develop a new science that would show what sort of things a man might inherit from their parents. Please God not certain writing 'abilities'!_

__

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Francis Duke of Guise (b. 1519) and Charles, cardinal of Lorraine (b. 1524). Francis had gained great fame through several victories in battle, most notably the capture of Calais from the English in 1558. Since their late sister (the recently passed Scottish Regent) had married James V King of Scots, that made Queen Mary and King Francis II the brothers' niece and nephew respectively.  
2) Coming of age was officially twenty-one, but as might be expected at a time of shorter average life expectancies, various rights and privileges came before then. Omegas could not safely bear children until they were at least eighteen – with Rebecca Novak and Mary Campbell looking on, Lucifer would wait until Samuel was twenty-one if he desired to keep certain appendages! - but girls fared much worse. The Queen's great-grandmother Margaret Beaufort had born her grandfather (the future Henry VII) when she was just thirteen!  
3) A royal palace some ten miles south-east of London, still part of the Crown Estates but administered by English Heritage and open to the public. The original palace was badly damaged during the period of the Commonwealth in the 1650s; the current building dates only to 1930, but is said to be an excellent example from that time.  
4) Alexander Lord Home (d. 1575), a perennial loser in Scottish politics. He was contracted to marry an illegitimate daughter of James V (i.e. a half-sister of Queen Mary) but this fell through. He was initially against Mary herself but changed sides just as the tide of war turned against her and died after spending his last two years in captivity. 


	9. Dark Deeds (1560)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a most untimely – or perhaps timely? - death in Oxfordshire. The skies over London grow dark and Dean discusses thirteenth-century consorts with Castiel, who reveals something about Scottish cultural practices. And both men wonder whether a second death is on the cards, and who might gain from it.

**MDLX**   
**VIII July**   
**Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“That went well”, Dean observed slyly.

Cecil glared at him.

“You are not the one who got something thrown at him!” he said sourly. “Seriously, how did Her Majesty expect her cousin to take the news of the Treaty? She was bound to refute it. Women!”

“Still the Scottish queen maintains her claim to the English throne”, Dean said. “I spoke to Cas – Lord Castiel – about it yesterday, and even he thinks it unwise.”

“The French are not making wise decisions as of late”, Cecil observed. “Not that I have any complaints about that; it makes my job easier. And those rumours that Queen Mary had referred to 'King Dudley' were bound to annoy Her Majesty.”

“I cannot _think_ who started those!” Dean smiled. “Unfortunately however, they only reflect what so many at court think.”

“And Mistress Robsart (1) falling ill is not helping matters”, Cecil sighed.

“Who?” Dean asked, puzzled.

“Lord Robert's wife”, Cecil said. “She has not been seen at court since the accession and if she dies... I am afraid that there would be nothing stopping the Queen from marrying him.”

“Do you think she might?” Dean asked.

“I think not but I cannot be sure”, Cecil admitted. “And I hate not being sure!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXI August**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

Castiel sat in his room and looked out of the window at the near-darkness outside. This was not an unusual situation in itself except that it was nearly eleven of the clock in the morning. The babble of frenetic voices outside told him that the citizens of London were similarly perplexed.

“John Dee (2) says it's because the Moon is passing in front of the Sun”, Dean said as he sat with his friend. “But he did advise not going out today; many people will be panicking that it is the end of the world.”

“It is..... strange”, Castiel admitted. “But it is not completely dark.”

“Dee says that it depends where in the world you are”, Dean said. “Somewhere it will be pitch black in the middle of the day. Horrible!”

“I suppose that is science”, Castiel admitted. “I do not like the man but he seems to have been right this time. We are better off in here. Did he say how long it would last?”

“He thinks not long from what he has read about previous times it happened”, Dean said. “The Queen consults him about such matters a lot.”

“Like she consults Lord Robert?” Castiel smiled.

“Cecil is worried”, Dean admitted, “but I myself do not think she will marry him. She enjoys being her own mistress too much and besides, she has her finger on the pulse of the nation. She knows how unpopular he is especially given his family's dubious track record in royal affairs. It is a pity that his wife never comes to court though, or we could scotch these false rumours easily.”

“I doubt that we will ever see Mistress Robsart at court”, Castiel said.

He was to be proven more right on that matter than he could then know.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**VIII September**  
 **Windsor Palace, London (England)**

Dean walked as quickly as he could without running along the corridors of the palace. Cecil's command had stressed urgency but he did not see what could have happened to cause his employer any alarm.

“Mistress Robsart is dead!”

But that might just qualify. Dean stared at the beta in shock.

“How?” he asked.

Did he imagine it or was there the slightest pause before the answer?

“She fell down the stairs at her home, Cumnor Place near Oxford, and broke her neck”, he said. “It is bad, so very bad. She was alone in the house; all the servants had been allowed to go to a fair nearby and..... there were no witnesses.”

It struck Dean in a way that was perhaps a little untimely that this death would serve his employer quite well. The Queen could not risk contamination whilst there was the inevitable investigation into the death. And even if Lord Robert was absolved of all blame – _when_ he was absolved? - there would always be the taint of suspicion, the wiseacres who muttered about no smoke without fire.

It also struck Dean, perhaps thankfully, that it would be exceptionally stupid of him to voice those thoughts and that his employer was watching him closely.

“Have you informed Her Majesty?” he asked instead.

He knew from the slight smile that he had chosen the correct response.

“She has ordered his removal from court this very day”, Cecil said. “Quite wise in the circumstances. Poor Mistress Robsart – but then we all have to go sometime.”

Indeed we do, Dean thought wryly. But was this really her time?

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**IX September**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

“I am sure that I do not have to tell you”, Castiel said, “what the people of England are saying about this death.”

Dean sighed heavily.

“That the Queen had her rival removed so that she could marry Lord Robert”, he said. “Fools! Mistress Robsart's death will be the one thing that makes sure he _cannot_ marry the Queen, at least not for many a year.”

“Perhaps she might be prepared to wait for 'many a year'?” Castiel suggested. 

“At nearly thirty?” Dean said doubtfully. “She does not have many child-bearing years left. If she wishes to continue her dynasty or at least establish a new one, she will have to move quickly.”

Castiel looked thoughtfully at his friend.

“Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

“Trip to that nice pie-stand by the ferry?” Dean suggested. Castiel swatted at him.

“I am thinking”, the Scotsman said slowly, “that Mistress Robsart's death was very timely for Lord Robert's enemies – amongst whom are your employer. Lord Cecil.”

“I was thinking that too”, Dean admitted. “And so I would wager are quite a few people at court. Though I doubt that any would be so foolish as to voice that thought, as my lord would know about it before twilight.”

“If not sooner”, Castiel agreed.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**II October**  
 **Charing Village, London (England)**

“The Queen is removing the court to Windsor”, Dean told his friend as they turned to walk back down to the two palaces. “There is plague in the docks and it seems set to spread into the city itself.”

“What is that?” Castiel asked pointing to a large Gothic-style cross by the road.

“The Eleanor Cross.”

The Scotsman just looked confused.

“Eleanor of Castille was the wife of King Edward the First”, Dean explained. “She died in the Midlands in 1290 and he had her body brought from there to London. Every place it rested he put up a cross to her memory.”

“Rather expensive”, Castiel observed.

“I think it shows how much he loved her”, Dean said. “And he was never the same after it. It's romantic.”

“Aw, you're just a mushy alpha at heart!” Castiel teased.

“At least I'm not the one wearing a dress!” Dean retorted.

_“It's a kilt!”_

“It looks damn cold”, Dean said. “Give me a pair of trousers and some underpants any day!”

“Real Scotsmen don't wear anything under their kilts”, Castiel said. “Even omegas!”

He may have smirked rather more than was appropriate at his friend's suddenly hitched breathing.

Maybe not.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XII November**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

Castiel hesitated.

“Dean?”

“Yes?”

“If I asked you a direct question would you give me an honest answer?”

The Englishman snorted at his friend.

“I work for Lord Cecil”, he said. “Honesty is a luxury I can ill afford.”

“There are rumours that English agents are behind King Francis's latest illness”, Castiel said. “Do you know anything about that?”

Dean shook his head.

“Your mistress's husband is a sick enough man as it is”, he said. “Besides it is not really in the interests of England for him to shuffle off this mortal coil just now.”

“Why not?” Castiel asked. “If he and Queen Mary have a son that boy could inherit both the Scottish and French thrones, and be a major danger to your country.”

“I do not think the Scottish barons would tolerate a distant Catholic ruler who made their country play the under-dog”, Dean said. “They may not even accept Queen Mary back if her husband does die.”

“That would be treason!” Castiel said hotly.

“That would be religion”, Dean countered. “They are still deciding on which of the various forms of Protestantism they want. They might allow her back if she does not interfere, but it will not end well for either side if they do and she breaks her word. No, at the moment her being tied up in France is best for us, whilst her native land sorts itself out.”

“You think that a woman cannot run Scotland?” Castiel asked.

Dean laughed.

“Unlike old Johnnie Knox, I never voice my opinions of the fairest sex”, he said. “With my Queen it would indeed be bad for my health!”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Amy Robsart (b. 1532). Daughter of a rich Norfolk farmer, her 1550 marriage to Robert Dudley was part love-match and part social climbing; three years after that the Dudleys would tilt for the crown itself in the ill-starred short reign of Lady Jane Grey.  
2) John Dee (b. 1527). Mathematician, philosopher, scientist and astrologer, he dabbled more in the latter (and even in spiritualism) as his influence declined at court in his later years. 


	10. Matters Of Judgement (1560-1561)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Francis II of France dies and his widow Mary Queen of Scots decides to return to her native land, much as expected. What is not much as expected is how she plans to get there, which ruffles more than a few feathers. Castiel moves into Scotland Yard, and Queen Elizabeth delays making a decision (so no change there).

**MDLX**   
**VII December**   
**Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

The news arrived late that Sunday and Dean was attendant on Lord Cecil when he delivered it to the Queen. She looked thoughtfully at both men.

“The French certainly move fast”, she observed. “Poor King Francis II dies on Friday, his ten-year-old brother is declared King Charles IX on Saturday, and the new king immediately announces his mother as his regent.”

“The Guises are finished”, Cecil said confidently. “The new King Charles has never liked them for the control that they wielded over his sick brother, let alone their religious fanaticism, and while he has not actually banished them from court their rule is broken. His mother Catherine de Medici is the real power in the land.”

“Dear Johnnie Knox will be having kittens!” the Queen smiled. “Yet another country falls under the dominion of the 'Monstruous Regiment of Women', as he calls it. What is your opinion of the two sides, Cecil?”

Dean noted a slight hesitation before the secretary answered.

“The Queen Dowager's family is Florentine in origin”, he said, “and has produced two popes as well as marrying into several important dynasties, including the Valoises.”

The Queen looked hard at him. Cecil shuffled his feet nervously. Dean covertly checked around to see if she had anything throwable to hand.

“The second of those popes was, if I recall, Clement VII”, she said archly, “who refused my father the annulment of his marriage he desired in order to be able to marry my late mother.”

“In fairness Pope Clement was at the time in the gaols of Emperor Charles V, who happened to be Queen Catherine's nephew”, Cecil said smoothly. “Italian politics is a dangerous business, and the family have done well to prosper as much as they have. Indeed they have done well to stay alive!”

“And the Queen Dowager herself?” Elizabeth asked.

“A clever lady in some aspects”, Cecil said thoughtfully, “but perhaps a little simplistic in others. She appears to believe that everything comes down to politics at the end of the day, which is a fair assumption except that she things it includes even religion. She is tolerant towards the Huguenots (1) which is good, but I do not know if she is strong enough to hold the Catholics in check.”

“For a woman, you mean?” the Queen smiled.

“It would be a taxing task for a man or a woman”, Cecil said. “The good thing from our point of view is that it will keep one of our enemies occupied; Queen Catherine has shown no interest in Scotland and is said not to like her Scottish daughter-in-law overly much, so we may have peace on one front at least. The only real problem we may have is if – or more likely, when – Queen Mary decides to return home to her now Protestant country.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**MDLXI**  
 **II January**  
 **Scotland Yard (2), London (England)**

“It is good that they finished the repairs to this place”, Castiel said as he looked favourably around his new room. “This is so much better than Westminster and that draughty room.”

“It certainly smells better even if it is only a little further away from the river”, Dean admitted. “So, any news of your mistress the Queen of Scots?”

“I rather presume that she is planning to return to her native land”, Castiel said, “now that she is merely a queen dowager in France.”

“I am surprised they did not wait a little before installing her brother-in-law”, Dean said. “I know that she and her husband were both young but there was always the chance she might be in the early stages of a pregnancy.”

“I suppose that is what is delaying her”, Castiel said, “since if she is it would change everything. How is your brother Samuel by the way?”

“The moose is still sulking”, Dean sighed. “Lord Bartholomew came over last week just after Christmas, and he barely concealed his disinterest in the fellow.”

“How has your mother taken the news?” Castiel inquired.

“She just wishes her sons to be happy”, Dean said. “I suppose that as the elder son I am the one required to make a prestigious match, one that can keep her in her dotage. Though I would never dare mention that word in her presence; she would knock my block off!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIX January**  
 **Scotland Yard, London (England)**

_'My dear son Castiel,'_

His father's writing. And best of all, just a letter. No manuscript that would leave him unable to sleep at night. He might be making an extra donation in church come Sunday.

 _'I am writing to apprise you of a Most Concerning Development, which will surely have repercussions for you in England. Samandriel wrote to me recently and he had some news about our mistress Queen Mary. She has as we expected she would decided to return to her homeland come spring, once we have better weather – but incredibly she is to write to her cousin the English queen to ask for passage through_ her _country so as to avoid the long sea-journey! I do not like to imagine what Elizabeth Tudor's reaction will be but I strongly advise you not to be there when the storm breaks!_

_Up here the bastard Jamie Stuart is now leader in all but name of the barons as poor Arran is ill again. I spoke to Jamie about this matter, and even he was surprised at his half-sister's poor judgement. Does she seriously believe that Elizabeth, whose throne she is still claiming for her own, will let her undertake a royal progress all the way across England? Let alone the fact that the northern parts of that kingdom are still predominantly Catholic and would likely support our queen's rightful claim. I seriously wonder whether that rat William Cecil has somehow managed to insinuate an English spy amongst our Queen's court, for her to have been given such ill advice. The fact she took it... it does not augur well._

_Talking of the English queen, I am increasingly (if reluctantly) coming to admire her for her abilities. Her policy of tolerating all Catholics except recusants is not only weakening our religion down there, it is bringing in a large amount in fines to her previously empty treasury. Jamie Stuart of course admires her as a fellow Protestant, but we all know that he has his eyes upon the throne here, although I think that his bastardy and the presence of more than a few legitimate successors after our queen will see that danger off, even if one of them is that idiot Darnley. What will happen when a Catholic Queen Mary finds herself ruling a Protestant country, though – well, I shall be 'at my books' thank you very much._

_Your mother has travelled to see her sister up in far Dingwall, by ship of course. She is not due back for two weeks so most regrettably I do not have any stories of hers for you this time. I am sure that with a great effort you will be able to contain your disappointment at that fact._

_I will write again when we have our queen back – one way or another._

_Father'._

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**III February**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“It is at times like this”, Cecil grumbled, “that I am reminded just how much she is Henry VIII's daughter. What on earth can have possessed her cousin to have advanced such a request?”

“The Queen has always written to her most cordially”, Dean observed.

“Snakes are 'cordial' to their victims before they strike”, Cecil said. “I do not think I have seen so many courtiers try to get through a door at one and the same time. I think that despite her not actually having said as much we can safely inform Queen Mary that she will _not_ be allowed onto English soil.”

“She was incredibly foolish to think such a thing”, Dean said. “If she makes any more poor decisions like that, then she will find trying to run a Protestant country like Scotland all but impossible.”

“You forget how feudal our northern neighbours are”, Cecil said mildly. “And that their parliament, or the Estates as they call it up there, is far weaker than our own. Which reminds me; I did not get round to asking the Queen about that license to create a new constituency in Devonshire.” (3)

“Why would she do that?” Dean asked. “People say there are too many members of parliament already?”

“Because one can only bribe or threaten so many of them”, Cecil said, “so it pays to create new members in areas where the Crown has copious lands and we can rely on the voters' good judgement. Although after that little show today I do not think anyone will be crossing Her Majesty again any time soon!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**IV February**  
 **Scotland Yard, London (England)**

“My mistress will definitely be heading home soon”, Castiel said. “Although doubtless yours will be ordering her pirates to try to stop her.”

“The Queen does not have pirates”, Dean said pointedly. “She has privateers.”

“And a fork is a spade if you ignore the gaps in it”, Castiel retorted. “No, my mistress has no place in France now. The new regent, Queen Catherine, has recognized your queen and has even agreed to suspend her efforts against the Huguenots.”

“A persecution is an effort if you ignore the gaps in it”, Dean quipped. “Will that mean you will have to return home?”

His voice sounded a little more wistful than he had intended, and the twinkle in those impossibly blue eyes told him that yes, it had been spotted.

“My father thinks that I can serve him better here”, the omega said, “although he is sending Luke to France to replace Alfie, my youngest brother, for a time.”

“I thought you said your youngest brother's name was Samandriel?” Dean asked.

“We mostly call him by his middle name”, Castiel said. “I shall stay here and monitor developments.”

“And we shall wait to see what happens when the Scottish queen who claims the English throne finds herself head of a Protestant country sooner than she – or they - expected!” Dean grinned.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**V March**  
 **St. James's Palace, London (England)**

Dean felt just a scintilla of pity for the poor City aldermen who were bowing their way forward towards the throne. The Queen was _not_ having one of her good days. At least the royal doctor was present. And a cleaner with a mop and bucket was to hand.

“Mr. Grange, Mr. Smith, Mr. Brown”, the Queen said frostily. _“Well?”_

The three well-dressed men looked awkwardly at each other before the eldest of them juddered into speech.

“Your most excellent majesty”, he began, “we wish to petition on behalf of my son.”

The Queen looked expectantly at Dean who had the Petitions List.

“Peter Grange, Your Majesty”, he said. “Twenty-one years of age, accused of making false coin. The matter is proven beyond doubt.”

Elizabeth nodded and turned back to the men before her.

“I made it _quite_ clear”, she said coldly, “that the re-issuing of the country's coinage was an undertaking of the _greatest_ importance. And I set out – in no uncertain terms – what the penalties would be for _anyone_ who tried to take advantage of that change. Am I to take it that you wish me not to apply the law because the guilty man is the son of a City of London alderman?”

Dean hid a smirk. Clearly that was exactly that the three men _had_ been aiming for. The queen sighed and beckoned Mr. Grange forward.

“The law is the law, sir”, she said, quietly enough for only him and Dean to hear, “and must be applied to everyone, great and small. I myself am in many ways constrained by it, whether I will it or no. Your son must answer for what he stands accused of and we both know, do we not, that he _will_ be found guilty and face the appropriate punishment?”

The alderman shuddered. Dean knew why; the usual punishment in this case was the removal of the hand that had done the deed.

 _”However”_ , the queen went on, “I have ordered Cecil to bring the boy in to trial next Friday. _Not_ before. If, prior to that, he should chance to leave the country – well, I would have to banish him for life but we have more important matters in England than pursuing departed criminals to the annoyance of foreign rulers. Especially those in Stavanger (4) where, I believe, you have a house?”

She looked knowingly at him.

“Thank you, Your Majesty!”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) French Protestants, mostly based in the north of that country. The derivation of the term is uncertain.  
2) Now Great Scotland Yard, named for the Scottish Embassy which used to be there. It is just beyond the northern borders of the former Whitehall Palace, a little way south of modern Trafalgar Square. The original headquarters of London's Metropolitan Police was there; when they subsequently moved the name went with them and the Curtis Green Building on the Victoria Embankment was as of 2016 the third 'New Scotland Yard'.  
3) This was why up to the time of the Great Reform Act of 1832 the royalist counties of Devonshire and Cornwall were so vastly over-represented in the Commons.  
4) In Norway, a country then ruled by the Danish crown. 


	11. Comings And Goings (1561)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a mixtures of arrivals and departures. Dean's family gains a new member, Scotland regains a queen and the English court looks set to regain Lord Robert (to the annoyance of just about everyone at the English court). On the departure side St. Paul's Cathedral says goodbye to its spire and Castiel nearly loses his dinner over the latest letter from home!

**MDLXI**   
**II May**   
**Scotland Yard, London (England)**

“It was pitiful!” Dean groaned. “Did you have to let him have it?”

“Luke asked me to make sure that your brother got the locket on his birthday”, Castiel said primly. “I had wondered if Samuel's feelings for him would have weakened over time but judging from the look on his face....”

“Rapture”, Dean sighed. “The moose never did have any taste.”

“Hey! That's a Novak you're talking about there.”

“Exactly!”

Dean dodged the elbow.

“It is good that the plague has retreated”, he said grinning at the younger man's pout. “I have heard it said that when it came to England two hundred years ago, it killed half the people in its first wave.”

“Some people say it was God's judgement”, Castiel said sonorously.

“Presumably then God encouraged the Scots to invade to try to take advantage?” Dean suggested, “because the history books say that they took the plague back with them when they left!”

“I do not believe that _you_ read history books”, Castiel said firmly. 

“I'm not just a pretty face”, Dean grinned.

“Not even that!” Castiel muttered. “Ow!”

He did not dodge the elbow.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXII May**  
 **St. James's Palace, London (England)**

Something was clearly troubling his employer. Dean waited patiently for instructions.

“Dean, I am compelled to ask you a rather unusual question.”

Dean felt his stomach drop. Rapidly.

“Yes, sir?” he said anxiously.

“Not for you personally as such”, the Secretary said, easing Dean's worries a little. “How exactly did your father die?”

That _was_ a strange question, Dean thought.

“A fall from a roof, sir”, he said.

The Secretary's eyes seemed to bore into him. Dean blushed.

“A fall when he was being chased by a husband of a woman he had been sleeping with, from the man's bedroom, sir”, he amended.

“Indeed”, Cecil said. “Well, it seems that Mistress Colquhoun was not the only lady, married or no, to be 'blest' with John Winchester's extra-marital attentions. Indeed he seems to have been granting his favours with the same copiousness as old King Henry the First.” (1)

“Sir?”

“Some time back I received information that he had been maintaining a lady for a period of time over in Stepney” (2) Cecil said. “A Mistress Catherine Milligan, one of the few ladies who was not married during their relationship. That began I am sorry to have to tell you almost immediately after his marriage to your mother, and lasted a period of some years before the woman's death ended it. He did however acknowledge the bastard son that resulted as his own.”

Dean wondered at the 'some time back' but did not say anything. Then again this was William Cecil. He did not need to.

“I chose to have had the matter thoroughly checked before mentioning it to you”, Cecil said heavily, “and the beta – fourteen years of age this September – is indeed your half-brother. His name is Adam.”

Dean suddenly got it.

“Adam who started here back in January?” he asked. He knew the boy by sight; a wiry blond youth who always looked barely a meal away from starvation. 

“Indeed”, Cecil said. “I dare say that the two of you – and your mother and brother as well, for that matter – may have one or two things to discuss?”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**IV June**  
 **Paternoster Row (3), London (England)**

“They do say that it was built on the site of an old Roman temple to the goddess Diana”, Dean said.

Castiel finished shaking the rain off his coat. The deluge had caught the two young men exactly halfway through their walk and they had had to run for shelter in a bakery near St. Paul's Cathedral. The thunder rolled loudly from not far away.

“And they say Scotland is wet!” the omega grumbled. “You were telling me about this new brother of yours?”

“Half-brother”, Dean corrected. “And though I would never say it in front of my mother, possibly not the only one given my late and un-lamented father's reputation. Yes it went well enough. Cecil has a set of rooms for workers like Adam – I could sleep there if needed – and the boy knows he is welcome at our house now.”

One of the alphas in the bakery looked hungrily across at Castiel but subsided at a warning growl from Dean (and _someone_ did not need to smirk at that!). There was a flash of lightning outside followed almost immediately by another roll of thunder.

“The storm is getting nearer”, Castiel said. 

“How can you tell?” Dean asked.

“You can calculate the distance from the gap between the lightning and the thunder”, he said. “It's getting shorter which means the storm is passing over. Not a good thing for a city made primarily of wood.”

“London is used to fires, my mother said”, Dean remarked. “And surely someone named after an angel is not afraid of a storm?”

“I am not afraid!” Castiel said hotly. “But this oppressive heat is unwelcome, and I worry that....”

Quite what was worrying Lord Castiel Novak would never be known because at that exact moment there was a third flash of lightning followed immediately by not just a roll of thunder but also the boom of crashing masonry. Seconds later, a cloud of dust blotted out the view from the windows of the bakery; mercifully the door was shut, so most of it was kept out. Both men stared in astonishment.

“What on earth was that?” Dean wondered.

The still falling rain soon cleared the dust cloud and they along with many of the bakery's customers ventured outside. It was not hard to work out what had happened; the mighty steeple that had once topped the Gothic cathedral lay in ruins, strewn across the open area in front of it.

“The judgement of God upon the unrighteous”, Castiel said softly. 

“Yet He managed to miss all the houses around”, Dean pointed out. “And hopefully this maelstrom means there will have been few people in the line of fire.”

They both stared at the wreckage before them then scrambled forward to help start to clear it.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIV July**  
 **Greenwich Palace, London (England)**

Cecil pressed his long fingers together and eyed the young man before him. Dean tried not to sweat; the Secretary always did that before saying something bad.

“My sources tell me that the investigation into Mistress Robsart's death has reached a preliminary conclusion”, he said at last. “They will say that it was an accident.”

“That will relieve Lord Robert”, Dean said. And the Queen he added silently.

“And the Queen”, Cecil smiled. “Doubtless she will have him back at court once the fuss has died down.”

“She probably will”, Cecil sighed. “Tell me; what do you know about Lady Margaret, the Countess of Lennox?” (4)

“She is one of the ladies favoured by some as a candidate for the succession”, Dean said. “I have not see her at court which is not perhaps surprising given the Queen's usual reaction to that matter. Naturally if the lady is unwise enough to proclaim her title, I am sure that her cousin would be swiftly dispatching her to the Tower!”

“She is certainly trouble”, Cecil said. “She was indeed considered as being in line by the late King Henry at one time especially as she was a friend of his last wife Catherine Parr, but she went and ruined it all by marrying Lord Matthew Stuart.”

“A cousin to the Queen of Scots?” Dean asked.

“And another troublemaker”, Cecil said. “Thankfully not anywhere close to the succession or it would be even worse. They have two surviving sons; Henry Lord Darnley whom we have discussed before, not yet sixteen, and Charles just turned four. Darnley is as you know a claimant to the English throne and his mother is ambitious for power. She and her husband have from their home in Yorkshire been 'opening channels of communication' with the Scottish barons, ostensibly because of their exile after the French marriage but in truth to sound out the prospects for their son's prospects of marriage.”

“And Darnley and Queen Mary are of similar ages”, Dean noted, wincing. “Ye Gods, it would make that storm that felled St. Paul's look like a summer breeze if the Queen finds that out!”

“As I said, Lady Margaret is unwise”, Cecil said. “And in the game of politics the penalty for that is sometimes death. I already have a couple of men watching her. We shall soon see.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXX August**  
 **Scotland Yard, London (England)**

_'My darling son,_

_This is your beloved Mother writing to you again, dear heart, as your father is busy with our Queen's return. As I am sure you can guess it was a difficult journey; those damnable English pirates (or privateers as Elizabeth Tudor insists on calling them) chased her along the coast and managed to capture most of the ships carrying her possessions. And she arrived back to find her treacherous half-brother Jamie Stuart in possession of Holyrood and, I would wager, not very keen to give it up. Unlike my good self, who when your Father is concerned am more than ready to... well, let us not go there just now.'_

Castiel did not cry, but it was close.

_'Anyway that was last week, and on the Sunday intervening it became clear how our Queen intends to tackle the thorny problem of a Catholic monarch ruling over a Protestant country – by ignoring it! She has said that she is willing to let her people have their faith provided she is allowed the same courtesy. Her half-brother clearly does not trust her, doubtless thinking that she will work covertly to undermine the new faith. One can but hope so._

_I suppose one of the next questions that our Queen will have to face will be the succession. I can only hope that she marries a good Catholic Scotsman; a woman needs a man to pretend to be in charge so that she can get on with organizing matters properly. I should know; I married your father._

_Talking of marriage – and I cannot believe that Elizabeth has not married yet; she is nearly thirty! - I see that Lord Robert has been found innocent of his late wife's death. Gabriel is already running a book on when he will be back at court, something I would strongly disapprove of – I prefer to arrange such things myself as a rule - except for the fact that he gave me mid-October at four to one. Your Father advised me to go for that as he knows about such things._

_Raphael has been having one of his Moods again; he is claiming that he identifies as a tall black woman from Africa some two centuries ago. I suppose it is an improvement on Attila the Hun or the time he decided he was a Roman priest and tried to sacrifice a chicken. You were very nearly minus a brother over that; he made so much mess I was half-inclined to sacrifice him!_

_Anyway that is all my news for now. I enclose another story for your delectation; 'Hylas Returns' in which even the alpha hero Hercules can be totally unmanned. Talking of which your father will be getting home and work is so stressful of late that.... well, he has Needs._

_Your loving Mother'_

Seriously, Castiel thought, someone needed to invent mind-doctors who could help you recover from family letters!

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) As many as twenty-four from various women. Regrettably as things turned out he had only two legitimate children (probably short of time and/or energy!), so when his only son died unexpectedly, things did _not_ end well.  
2) Then a village just east of London, near the docks.  
3) Later the centre of the London bookselling trade. It was almost completely destroyed in the Blitz in World War Two, and in 2003 its buildings were replaced by the Paternoster Square development.  
4) Margaret Douglas (b. 1515). Daughter of Henry VIII's elder sister Margaret from her second marriage to Scottish baron Archibald Douglas, so a claimant to the English but not the Scottish throne. It was unclear whether Henry VIII's Act of Succession excluded the younger Margaret from the succession, and the later marriage of her son Henry Lord Darnley was a clever way for his new wife Mary Queen of Scots to strengthen her claim to the English throne. Or so it seemed at the start...... 


	12. Forks And Faux Pas (1561-1562)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A religious extremist makes life uncomfortable for many at Greenwich Palace but makes the mistake of crossing Mary Campbell over a Yule log – while she is holding a toasting-fork! There is an exchange of presents between our resident idjits, a lady gets pregnant despite being held in the Tower of London (!) and there is a major panic in Yorkshire.

**MDLXI**   
**XVIII September**   
**Scotland Yard, London (England)**

“I got you something for your birthday”, Dean said as they sat in the Scotsman's room. They had intended to take a walk along the Thames, but a sudden downpour had led to a change of plans. “You said that you needed it so I hope it's all right.”

Castiel stared at him curiously. He could not recall saying that he needed anything. The Englishman blushed and handed over a small bag which he opened.

“A necklace?” the omega asked, even more confused. Dean reddened.

“You said you wanted some way of wearing that little gold angel your parents gave to you and your siblings”, he said staring hard at the floor. “I thought.... you know.....”

“Oh Dean”, Castiel smiled. “Sometimes you're just so cu.....”

The Englishman was giving him the sort of desperate look which was pleading for him not to make this a mushy moment.

“Considerate?” Castiel amended.

“I'll take considerate.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIX October**  
 **Greenwich Palace, London (England)**

Cecil sighed as he stared out of the window.

“Is something wrong, my lord?” Dean asked politely.

“Lord Robert Dudley is back at court”, the Secretary said heavily. “He offered to leave the country what with the cloud of suspicions still hanging over him, but the Queen refused.”

Dean was fairly certain that the man before him was responsible for a large part of that cloud, just as he was certain that he should not utter a single word on that theory.

“Surely he cannot be considered a suitor for the Queen's hand now?” he ventured.

“Probably not”, Cecil sighed. “Tell me something, Dean. What do you think of Mr. Zachariah Adler?”

The sudden change of subject surprised the younger man.

“He is.... very devout”, he said carefully.

The Secretary just looked at him.

“Everyone at court says that he's a complete pain in the arse!” Dean admitted.

“Most likely because he is”, Cecil agreed much to Dean's relief. “As if we do not have enough issues with Catholic priests trying to slip into England to bolster their infernal religion, we have extremist Protestants like Mr. Adler urging more faggots and fire _à la_ Bloody Mary. Most regrettably the late King Henry conferred a minor post here on him for life because his father had been an agreeable servant, and the Queen does not wish to change matters.”

The Queen did not wish to change anything much, Dean thought wryly. It was a good policy most of the time – many problems just went away if you left them alone – but not the oleaginous Zachariah Adler.

“He and his ilk are calling themselves Puritans”, Cecil said, “because they believe they follow a purer form of the Faith, not the compromise that the Queen has necessarily ordained for the Church of England. Fortunately they are as terrified of her as the rest of us although they will still have to be monitored.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXVII December**  
 **Greenwich Palace, London (England)**

“Dean?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Did I perchance see Mr. Adler limping back to his room earlier?”

Dean blushed.

“Yes, my lord.”

Cecil just looked at him.

“He came to our rooms whilst we were singing carols around the Yule log”, Dean said, “and started criticizing us as heathens. My mother was as it chanced using the toasting-fork at the time, so....”

The Secretary winced.

“I presume that he was annoyed at seeing some of his fellow Puritans getting the same treatment as some Catholics”, he said. “One cannot but hope that next time your mother is not wielding a knife.”

Dean thought wryly that in fact that might not be a bad....

Cecil was tutting as he walked away.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**MDLXII**  
 **XXIV January**  
 **Scotland Yard, London (England)**

“I did get you something for your birthday”, Castiel said, looking even more awkward that usual, “but I am not sure that it is appropriate.”

“A sex toy?” Dean asked hopefully. 

He only narrowly dodged the elbow. The Scotsman handed him a tiny box barely an inch all round, and Dean stared at it curiously before opening it. Then he gulped.

“You said that you wanted a ring”, Castiel said, visibly nervous at the Englishman's silence, “and that you liked the blue-green one that I wear. One of the court jewellers saw it last month and told me where it came from – the Holy Land, apparently – and said that he could get another if I ever needed it.”

That had to have been expensive, Dean thought. But Castiel was right; the ring was indeed beautiful with swirls of forest green and a blue that matched the Scotsman's eyes when he was angry.....

Dean realized just where his thoughts were heading and shoved them firmly into a side-road. No mushy moments thank you very much.

_And that included no damn smirking!_

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**III March**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

One of the things that Dean found most difficult about his work for William Cecil was that he did not know how much he did know – well, he knew what he knew except that if there were things that he did not know....

He really needed to get out more!

“My lord”, he said carefully as he read the recently-arrived letter, “are we helping these Huguenots?”

“Yes and no.”

That was just mean, Dean thought crossly. The Secretary smiled.

“France is not Scotland”, he explained. “The position of the Protestant Cause south of the Channel is, I am afraid, quite hopeless, although I must say that I did not expect the young French king to start massacring so many of them quite so soon. But we cannot afford to annoy the French just now.”

“Because of the Spanish”, Dean guessed.

“Indeed”, Cecil said. “I might clarify and say that we _are_ assisting the Huguenots, but only to the extent that it keeps the French distracted and certainly not in any way that can be traced back to us.”

“The French will know, surely?” Dean asked.

“They will be ninety per cent certain”, Cecil smiled, “but as with when we similarly 'helped' the Scots, that missing ten per cent is all important. And with Philip of Spain nibbling at their southern borders, the French will not wish to start anything with us if they do not have to. No, they will complain informally but put up with it and we must build up our strength for when the Spanish come knocking.”

“You think that they might invade some day?” Dean asked, surprised.

“The actions of English privateers are at the moment like a flea on the back of an elephant”, Cecil said, “but the Spanish have used all that gold they have pillaged from the backwards peoples of the Americas most unwisely (1). Twice in the past five years King Philip has had to default on his debts and doubtless it irks him that our own Queen, for all her penny-pinching ways, is currently getting interest rates of only eight per cent whilst he has to pay more than double that.” (2) 

“That must be vexing”, Dean smiled.

“It is”, Cecil said. “The question is, how long until it vexes him enough to attack us?”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XII March**  
 **Scotland Yard, London (England)**

“You are back”, Dean smiled in welcome. “How was your trip North?”

“Cold!” Castiel grumbled as Dean built up the fire for him. “Yorkshire is wet and the Lennoxes are too busy running round like headless chickens to be half-decent hosts.”

Dean could understand that. Lady Lennox, better known as Margaret Douglas, had that dangerous if questionable claim to the English throne and the Queen never reacted well to that. And her elder sons Henry Lord Darnley was even more of a threat, being male and now an adult.

“Why are they so upset?” he asked.

“Has not your Cecil told you?” Castiel asked. “One of their servants was taken to the Tower for questioning and has blabbed about delivering them letters from the Spanish ambassador. Your queen will be livid!”

“My Lord Cecil does not tell me everything”, Dean pointed out. “He says that that is how government works, by everyone only knowing what they need to know.”

“Well, the Lennoxes know that they are squarely in the you-know-what!” Castiel said. “Indeed I am surprised that the queen has not moved against them already. She was not exactly slow off the mark with Lady Catherine last week.”

“Oh come on!” Dean snorted. “A rival to the throne – nay, someone who was widely regarded as the heiress presumptive for the last few years – makes a secret marriage with a scion of a family that she knows the Queen hates, then makes matters worth by having a healthy son. The Queen very generously allows the fellow to go on seeing her once the marriage has been formally dissolved – and bingo, she gets pregnant again! I'm sorry for her but she really needs to think before she opens her legs.”

“Love makes fools of us all”, Castiel smiled.

“Not me!” Dean said firmly. “Love is a fool's game thank you very much.”

He did not notice the speculative look the Scotsman gave him just then.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) The age-old problem of inflation and unwise government spending. Put simply, the Spanish brought so much extra gold into European markets and spent it all as if the gold price would remain unchanged by this massive increase in supply. Of course it did not and the growing depredations by English pirates/privateers made a bad situation even worse.  
2) Queen Elizabeth always made a point of only borrowing small amounts from foreign lenders to start with, and always paid it back on time. She was therefore considered a good risk unlike her Spanish cousin. 


	13. Lessons In Life (1562)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Hertford gets a free foreign holiday (whether he wills it or no) because of his failure to keep it in his trousers, and several members of parliament also fail to learn from their mistakes. Queen Elizabeth falls dangerously ill and her Scottish cousin just happens to have to face a conveniently-timed rebellion at the far end of her country. The first move occurs in a dark business and there is an early Christmas gift.

**MDLXII**   
**XXVIII May**   
**Scotland Yard, London (England)**

“Charlesfort.”

Dean looked up at the Scotsman curiously.

“Charles thought what?” he asked. Castiel sighed in a put-upon manner.

“That is the name the Huguenot settlers planned to give their new settlement (1) in Florida, over in the Americas. They should be there by now.”

“They must be brave, to seek out a strange new world like that”, Dean mused. “”Boldly going where no man has gone before.”

“Except the myriad pagans who live there already”, Castiel said. “And I think it is more desperation than bravery; the situation on France continues to worsen day by day. I am glad that my Queen is safely back in Scotland.”

“She seems to have accepted the reality that the country is now Protestant”, Dean said. “Her advisors are mostly of the new faith, not the old.”

“That is where the next trouble will most probably arise”, Castiel said, “from Catholics who are not happy with her doing nothing to help them. Although I am sure that your Lord Cecil has people monitoring such developments already.”

“He probably does”, Dean admitted. “He knows most of what goes on, in and out of England.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXXI August**  
 **On the banks of the River Thames, London (England)**

“Your queen was in a foul mood today”, Castiel remarked as they walked along the river. It was cold for August and they both wore coats; Dean noted with disapproval that the Scotsman's was far too thin. And he still wore that bloody man-dress!

With nothing underneath, Dean's brain supplied unhelpfully. He told it to shut up!

“Have you not heard?” he said. “Lady Catherine was safely delivered of a healthy son in the Tower the other day. Her former husband will be lucky to keep his head just because he could not keep it in his trousers.”

“I would have thought a fine of fifteen thousand pounds (2) would have helped him do just that”, Castiel said caustically. “Some men do not learn.”

“The power of love”, Dean said sagely. “He is being sent on a long trip round Europe to 'cool his ardour'; I doubt that even he will be able to do much with his lady at that distance. Talking of which I saw Mistress Masters making cow-eyes at you in court today.”

Castiel winced.

“The lady is convinced that I hold a candle for her”, he said morosely. “If so it would only be to set her dress on fire!”

“But you kissed her?”

Castiel looked at him in shock.

“Who told you that?” he demanded angrily.

“Oh please!” Dean said dismissively. “There are no secrets at court, or at least not for long.”

The omega sighed.

“She was saying that I was totally inexperienced in the ways of the bedchamber”, he said stiffly. “I decided to prove to her that I was not.”

Dean grinned but did not press the matter further. Especially as Mistress Masters had been telling anyone who would listen that the Scotsman's kiss had been absolute heaven!

He wondered...... no.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XX September**  
 **Scotland Yard, London (England)**

“Your queen has gone further than I expected”, Castiel observed. “This treaty she has signed with the Huguenots will not go down well in France.”

“Doubtless _your_ queen will be spitting feathers at it”, Dean countered. “I do not expect anything to come of it; we all know the French Protestants are totally outnumbered.”

“That was what they said about the Scottish Protestants once”, Castiel said. “By the by I have another story sent by my dear mother. Would you like to read it?”

The Englishman have him such a look that he could not contain himself, and burst out laughing.

“All right”, he conceded, “it is well down to her usual standards. And doubtless it would put you off trifle for life! But then she is distracted by the rest of our family.”

“Problems?” Dean inquired.

“Raphael and Gabriel are just idiots but that is no change”, Castiel sighed. “Rafe is currently identifying as William the Conqueror, and Gabriel is in gaol. Again. No, it is Michael our eldest. My Queen has sent him to Yorkshire.”

The alpha's eyebrows shot up.

“Settrington?” he hazarded. Castiel nodded.

“She may be sounding out a potential match”, he said. “I presume even Michael will be able to spot that Lord Darnley is.... well, he is.....”

“An idiot?” Dean asked.

“And then some!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIX October**  
 **Scotland Yard, London (England)**

“It is madness”, Castiel said firmly. “I admire the man; John Hawkins (3) must be clever to have gotten any money out of your queen but this strange idea of going to Africa of all places will yield him only disease and possibly death.”

Dean was silent.

“Is something wrong?” Castiel asked.

“Very!”

The Scotsman was surprised at the taller man's sudden vehemence. And Dean looked terrible. Forest green eyes looked mournfully across at him from the other side of the table.

“The Queen has smallpox!” (4)

Castiel's eyes widened.

“Oh”, he said softly.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIX October, MDLXII**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“This is terrible!” Cecil sighed. “If the Queen of Scots is not planning her march south to claim the English throne then I'm a Dutchman!”

“At least the Queen is no worse”, Dean said. “Though I do not envy her having to submit to the ministrations of her doctors. Their 'cures' are often worse than the original disease!”

“She still has the nation in her thoughts, though”, Cecil said. “She has given me sealed instructions which are only to opened on her death.”

“As regards the succession?” Dean hazarded.

“We Protestants must have one candidate to rally around”, Cecil said, “especially as the Catholics will all support the Scottish queen. Of course when the Queen recovers I will burn them.”

 _If_ she recovers, Dean thought.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIII November**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“All I am saying”, Castiel said patiently, “is that the timing is rather suspicious.”

“Your queen can hardly have expected peace and good will amongst all her lords”, Dean pointed out. “Scotland has not had that since forever!”

“But that she should have to face a rebellion at the far end of her country”, Castiel said, “and at the exact moment her attentions need to be elsewhere.”

“Cecil says that it is her own doing”, Dean said. “I know she had to keep the loyalty of her half-brother but giving him the earldom of Moray was only ever going to annoy the Gordons, and Earl George (5) was never going to take it lying down.”

“He was standing at his trial”, Castiel smiled. “Even if he was dead!”

“Besides, your mistress surely has other concerns just now”, Dean said. “Spain for one.” 

Castiel looked at him sharply.

“Why Spain?” he asked.

“Oh come now!” Dean said. “The English courtiers are gossiping about her seeking a match with Don Carlos (6) and King Philip breaking things off after his accident. And then there is her Council.”

“What about it?” Castiel asked. 

“Cecil says that she is starting to be more open about her Catholicism”, Dean said. “Putting down a revolt by a leading Catholic seems to have emboldened her. Such moves are unwise, especially as she so obviously wants the crown of England before or after Great Elizabeth is done with it.”

“That may yet come to her”, Castiel said. “How is your queen?”

“No change”, Dean sighed. “She holds her own, but does not get any better. We shall soon see.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIII December**  
 **Westminster Palace, London (England)**

Dean forbore from smirking at the flood of gentlemen hurrying out of the old palace, many of them shaking their heads.

“Looks like the Queen is back”, he said to the omega standing beside him. “And fighting fit as ever. I thought we were supposed to elect our brightest and best to parliament but if they were dumb enough to raise the succession with her again....”

“Some people never learn”, Castiel agreed as they reached a heavy-looking door. “Why have you brought me to the palace clothing store?”

“Because I ordered something for you”, Dean said as they went in. “You can't face another winter in that bed-sheet you call a coat even if you are a hardy Scotsman. Here.”

He took a coat from one of the attendants and handed it to his friend. Castiel looked at him in surprise, then put it on. It was a thick wool coat but with a soft, silken lining that was very comfortable.

“You can't afford this”, the omega objected.

“With what Cecil pays me, I can”, Dean said. “And after Lady Sele stopped me last week and gave me a groat for you, you need it.”

“Why was she giving you money?” Castiel asked. Dean blushed.

“Because she thought I had taken pity on an indigent!” he admitted, staring hard at the floor.

Castiel just laughed.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Established by the French that same month on what is now Parris Island in South Carolina. It failed in under a year, the settlers abandoning it and returning to France. The Spanish destroyed the buildings, then in 1566 founded Santa Elena on the same site, which lasted on and off until 1587. The nearby Spanish settlement of St. Augustine (founded 1565) would become the oldest continuously occupied European settlement within the modern United States.  
2) At least £4,500,000 ($6,000,000) at 2019 prices.  
3) John Hawkins (b. 1532), one of the key figures of Elizabethan England. Unusually he was strongly linked to the late Queen Mary and her Spanish husband, but it was one of Elizabeth's many strengths that she could choose to overlook such details if someone was able enough.  
4) A terrible disease, which was finally eradicated as recently as 1980. The death rate was around one in three, higher among the young, and those who survived were often scarred for life and sometimes left blind. The disease wrought a much higher death rate when Europeans introduced it to the tribes of the New World, who had even less resistance to it. It was 'small' because Great Pox was another name for the more common but less deadly syphilis.   
5) George Earl of Huntly (1514-1562). He rebelled against Mary over what he regarded as the loss of the Moray lands to which he had had a claim, but was defeated at the Battle of Corrichie and died of apoplexy soon after. His lands were declared forfeit and his body was actually put in trial and then beheaded. His son George managed to get the title and some of the lands back in 1567 by arranging for his sister to marry the rising James Hepburn Earl of Bothwell; George Junior supported Mary's cause long after she had fled to England but was eventually reconciled with her son's regents. The title, now elevated to a dukedom, is as of 2019 held by Charles Gordon-Lennox who is also Duke of Richmond, Aubigny and Lennox.  
6) Carlos Prince of Asturias (b. 1545), eldest son of King Philip II of Spain. Earlier that same year he had nearly died from a fall, and afterwards had shown increasing signs of mental instability. He was arrested by his father in person six years later and died, perhaps rather conveniently, soon after. 


	14. The One With The Proposal (1563)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester works himself up to propose to his omega but things do not quite work out as planned (as in the words 'disaster', 'complete' and 'unmitigated', not in that order, are all too fitting). His omega brother fails to remember just how fast their mother can move when annoyed and rediscovers that fact the hard way.

**MDLXIII**   
**II January**   
**Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

Dean hesitated before saying what he had to say.

“I think you should know, sir”, he said carefully, “that it is being bruted around the Court that when she was ill, the Queen asked the Council to appoint Lord Dudley as Protector of the Realm if she died.”

“Indeed”, Cecil said heavily.

“It is true?” Dean asked, surprised. “Surely she could not have been so... unwise?”

“She saw the next world yawning before her”, Cecil sighed. “Many people act irrationally – some would say according to their true nature – at such times. Yes, she so instructed us. I had hoped no-one would be foolish enough to talk but one must not expect miracles too often.”

“Gossip is the life-blood of the Court, it seems”, Dean agreed. “At least she is back on form now.”

“Yes.”

Dean looked at his master in surprise.

“Sir?”

Cecil pressed his long fingers together.

“The Queen is to admit Lady Douglas to court”, he said. “And her sons.”

“ _That_ will worry her Scottish cousin”, Dean said, “especially if she is indeed considering Lord Darnley as a possible spouse.”

“I am, I admit, surprised that Mary Stuart has not married yet”, Cecil said. “Although like our own Queen, finding the right match must I suppose be difficult. She is bound to annoy many more than she pleases, whomsoever her choice alights on eventually. She did not take well to the suggestion that she should marry some English lord in return for formal recognition of her rights to succeed here.”

“She does not like being told what to do”, Dean said.

“Few ladies do”, Cecil sighed.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIV January**  
 **On the banks of the River Thames, London (England)**

“I know England is more progressive than many nations”, Castiel said, “especially when it comes to my gender. At least here a barren omega like myself does not have to go around with a giant 'B' branded onto his forehead.”

Many _Catholic_ nations, Dean thought but did not say.

“Your queen has backed her Council's outlawing of the barbaric practice in Scotland”, he said instead. “And she has made it clear that whilst she respects the semi-independence of the clan chiefs, they will have to follow on this. Quite right, too.”

“Not that it matters”, Castiel sighed. “Courts are such that everyone knows everyone else's background anyway. I might as well be branded and have done with it. I am resigned to never having a mate.”

The alpha was silent. Castiel looked at him curiously.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Why not me?”

“What?”

“Why not me as a mate?” Dean asked. “I lo.....”

He stopped. The Scotsman was looking at him rather oddly.

“You what?” he pressed.

“I.... loaiike you a lot”, Dean said, blushing at his sudden attack of cowardice. “And I really think that we could be happy together.”

He shuddered involuntarily at the word he had so nearly uttered but fortunately the omega either missed it or, more likely, was kind enough not to press him on it.

“But you're an alpha”, Castiel pointed out. “All for sex and alpha sons as the saying goes; that's all you're interested in.”

“Not all alphas are the same”, Dean huffed. “Your brother Lucifer is an alpha and he did not take advantage of Sammy.”

“Probably because it would be a question of which of our mothers would have hunted him down first”, Castiel said. “What you were going to say there was....”

Dean looked at him pleadingly. There may or may not have been a very slight quivering of a lip as well.

“Never mind”, the omega said.

The sigh of relief was palpable.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXV January**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

_“So.”_

Dean shuddered. He had no idea how his mother could put so much meaning into such a small word, but that 'so' was clearly the start of a conversation that was going to be... difficult. If he was lucky.

“Did you kiss him?” Sam asked eagerly.

“Yes”, Dean sighed. “But he still doesn't believe I am serious.”

“Then you will have to convince him”, his mother said. “You must go all out and woo the omega of your dreams.”

“Dean wooing!” Sam laughed. “Haha...... ow!”

Dean snickered. His brother should have known better than to make comments like that when their mother had a hair-brush to hand. Her being on the other side of the room was, the younger Winchester should have realized, no guarantee of safety.

“He doesn't think that I am serious”, the alpha said plaintively (it was not a whine, whatever any inferior sibling might have said). “And he will be away the next three weeks visiting some cousin in Hertfordshire.”

“What day does he return?” his mother asked.

“The thirteenth”, Dean said. “Why?”

“That is good”, Mary smiled, “because the fourteenth is St. Valentine's Day (1) so you can do something extremely romantic for him. And Samuel, if you utter so much as a single word I might just happen to mention to one Lucifer Novak about the incident with the paint.”

Dean snickered at his brother's evident discomfiture. He had three weeks to plan something. How difficult could it be?

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIV February**  
 **Scotland Yard, London (England)**

Unfortunately Dean's best-laid plans did not quite work out as hoped. He had planned to go down on one knee in front of the Scotsman as they walked around the court gardens within the Yard – it had rained for the past six days with no sign of letting up so they could not go by the river – and ask for Castiel's hand in marriage. But when he got to his friend's rooms the manservant told him that the fellow was with a guest in the gardens. Damnation!

Just how 'with' the guest Castiel was, Dean found out when he walked by the gardens on his way out. The Scotsman was with a nondescript dark-haired beta whom Dean did not recognize. He wondered whether to approach them or not.

Then Castiel smiled and kissed the fellow.

Approximately twelve seconds later, Dean had both his hands around the beta's neck, snarling angrily into his victim's face. The terrified man whined piteously.

“Dean”, Castiel said calmly, “would you mind awfully _not_ strangling my cousin?”

Cousin? As in blood relation? As in someone possibly not in a relationship with _his_ omega?

The beta gasped for breath and Dean belatedly realized he was still throttling the fellow. He loosed his grip at once, and rather shamefacedly helped his victim to his feet.

“This is my cousin, Inias McMorran”, Castiel said, a slight twinkle in his blue eyes the only sign that they would be Talking about this later. “He had some business in London so he came back with me from Watton.”

“Sorry”, Dean said staring hard at the ground in the hope it might obligingly open up and swallow him whole. 

It did not, worse luck. And the beta immediately moving to the relative safety of behind the omega did not help.

“Sorry”, Dean muttered again.

“I shall see you later, Castiel”, Inias managed, his breathing still a little irregular. “Hopefully alone.”

He hurried off ('fled' would not have been an inappropriate term). Castiel looked pointedly at Dean.

“Well?” he said archly. “What have you got to say for yourself, alpha?”

“I was going to ask you..... something”, Dean managed. “Perhaps today is not....”

“St. Valentine's Day”, Castiel said beginning to smile. “Dean? Was that you trying to be all romantic?”

Wishing even harder did not make the ground any more obliging towards swallowing you whole. The Good Lord seriously owed Dean for this.

“We shall Talk later”, Castiel said, still smiling.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**Later that same day**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“How did it go?” Sam asked.

“Let me get my coat off first”, Dean grumbled. “Not quite as I'd hoped.”

His brother looked at him skeptically. 

“What bit did you get wrong?” Mary asked coming into the room. Dean sighed; now he had an audience.

“The bit where I sort of nearly strangled his cousin”, he muttered.

They both stared at him in shock.

“How did even you manage that?” Sam asked eventually. “Ow!”

“Samuel!” Mary snapped. “I am sure that Dean will tell us in his own good time.”

“I saw them kissing goodbye and I sort of.... misunderstood”, he said.

“You were jealous!” Sam laughed although he made sure to be well out of their mother's reach before so doing. 

“I got the wrong end of the stick”, Dean sighed.

“Thing is, did Castiel get the right end of your.... _ow!”_

How could his mother move that fast, Dean wondered.

“We talked later”, he said. “He said he expects to be recalled to Scotland some time in the next year or two and would I be happy to go with him?”

“And?” Mary pressed.

“I may have sort of said yes...”

His mother was already hugging him.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) The tradition was most likely invented by English writer Geoffrey Chaucer, most famous for his 'Canterbury Tales'. In his 1382 book 'Parlement of Foules' (sic) he mentioned the day as having romantic traditions attached to it – but there were no previous records of any such, and attempts to link it to the Graeco-Roman fertility festival of Lupercalia in mid-February have been disproved. So we have Geoff to blame for it all! 


	15. Poetic License (1563)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has to endure that most horrible of experiences, a visit from his Mother. Worse, she and Dean's mother arrange everything as regards the wedding, which the alpha finds amusing until he discovers just what they have planned for him! The Queen of Scots keeps finding a French poet under her bed (or at least that's her excuse), the idjits see Henry Lord Darnley for the first time and Dean worries about the plague.

**MDLXIII**   
**IV March**   
**Scotland Yard, London (England)**

_'My clever son'_

_It is your dear Mother writing to you this time, as your father has had to travel to Glasgow on some boring business matter or other. Little has happened up here of note these past few weeks and certainly nothing to trump your most wonderful news. I am so proud that my most darlingest son has managed to land himself an alpha. I assume that it was your elation at the news as to why you neglected to mention some of the most important facts in your last letter, particularly as to how well endowed he is.'_

Castiel winced. Little wonder that William Cecil had smiled at him the other day; he must have read this. Ugh!

_'I suppose your chosen mate's religion is a problem and we shall have to decide what to do about that. I did suggest to your father that we might take St. Giles (1) for the event but unfortunately he was distracted by one of his Funny Turns, and I did not like to raise the matter again. But we must reach some sort of Understanding with the alpha's parents and to that end I am coming to England to talk to them._

_Your intensely proud Mother'_

Castiel read to the end of the letter before it sank in.

”She is doing _what?”_

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**V March**  
 **On the banks of the River Thames, London (England)**

“I am sorry that I was unavailable yesterday”, Dean said contritely. “Cecil had me sent down to Eltham on business and as it was so late I stayed the night there.”

“This is terrible!” Castiel wailed. “You do not know my mother. She will take control of everything!”

“She will have to fight my mother for it”, Dean said firmly.

“She just might do that!”

Dean pulled the trembling omega into a hug. Alphas do not of course cuddle but sometimes an omega just wished to be held in the approved and totally manly-like manner. And if anyone ever told Sammy about this, Dean would kill them!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**VII March**  
 **Greenwich Palace, London (England)**

“Your future mother-in-law is not the only newcomer to court this springtime”, Cecil said dryly as he reviewed the morning news. “We shall be welcoming Lord Darnley and his mother to the Royal Presence.”

Dean spotted the obvious omission.

“But not his father”, he said. Cecil nodded.

“Matthew Stuart (2) is an idiot”, he said firmly. “And his open aggrandizement in his son's name – well, _we_ know full well to avoid mentioning the succession when the Queen is around. He is not so wise and will have to stay in Yorkshire.”

“I thought you said that Lady Douglas was the driving force behind their ambitions?” Dean asked.

“She is”, Cecil said, “but unlike her husband she knows when to keep her mouth shut. I did wonder if one reason behind the move was that the Queen feared they might make a dash for Scotland, but even they must surely be wise enough to know that they are being watched. Then again that idiot Darnley had to have inherited his complete lack of brains from somewhere.”

“The Queen might let Lord Darnley go back to Scotland, perhaps?” Dean suggested. Cecil shook his head.

“If he married Queen Mary it would strengthen her claim to the English throne.”

“Especially if she had a son by him”, Dean said. 

To his surprise the Secretary shook his head.

“That is where our own Queen is wise not to marry”, he said. “She knows that the position of a woman ruler is weak enough and any son would naturally attract support away from her, particularly those looking to enrich themselves and rule through the boy. And talking of fearsome ladies you must let me know how your meeting with Lady Novak falls out.”

“If I survive it!” Dean muttered.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXI March**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

Dean staggered into the Secretary's room and all but collapsed into the chair. Cecil raised an eyebrow at his bedraggled appearance.

“I did not think it could be possible”, Dean moaned, “but she is worse than Cas said!”

“Ah”, Cecil said. “I take it that Lady Novak has arrived safely?”

“So, so unfortunately!” Dean sighed. “Next time I am hiring some of those privateers to stop her! She is terrible! And worse, she and my mother have somehow become friends and are arranging the wedding as we speak. I pleaded work and Cas gave me such a dirty look as I escaped.”

Cecil smiled.

“It seems to be a day for unfavourable news concerning females”, he said. “I have learnt that Catherine de Medici, ruler of France in all but name, has contrived to effect a reconciliation between the Catholics and the Huguenots. Bad news for us as their armies are now marching on Le Havre.”

“I do not understand why the Queen spent so much effort taking that place”, Dean said. “The days of Crecy and Agincourt are long behind us, surely?”

“For all her realism she mourns her late sister's foolish loss of Calais”, Cecil explained. “It was not worth the effort it took to maintain it but the port did give us some standing on the Continent. She had hoped to exchange Le Havre for i, but our armies cannot hold out there against a united France, however temporary that unity is.”

“You think that their religious wars will restart?” Dean asked.

“I am sure of it”, Cecil said firmly, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. “Only their shared hatred of the English has healed the breach; once we are forced out normal service will be resumed. We are fortunate that Mistress de Medici has no eye for Scotland, all things considered. Now, you can take this totally unimportant note and a small pouch of coin to Mr. Smith out in Stratford and that should keep you safely out of harm's – or at least your future mother-in-law's – way for a time.”

Dean shuddered.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**Later that same day**  
 **Scotland Yard, London (England)**

For abandoning his omega to the torture of the Wedding Planners From Hell Dean had to spend the evening cuddling said omega. Without complaining. 

There were, the alpha supposed, worse fates.

“I would have put money on our mothers disagreeing on everything”, Castiel sighed as they lay together. “Instead they now have the whole thing planned.”

Dean sniggered.

“Including the kilt you will wear”, Castiel added slyly.

“What?”

“Mother has her eye on an apartment in Holyrood”, Castiel said, “but it will not become vacant for another year. Although we could live with my parents in the meantime.....”

The omega was quietly impressed that his alpha could do such a negative silence.

“Maybe not”, he conceded. “We can live here for a year or so and then go North.”

“Cold up there, I bet”, Dean shuddered.

“But you'll have a nice omega to keep you warm”, Castiel pointed out.

“Harrumph!”

“Even if he does insist on you wearing a kilt all day.....”

“Hey!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**IV April**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“So that was the great Lord Darnley”, Dean mused as he and Castiel stood outside the great building. “The assessment of him was all too accurate; an agreeable nincompoop and little more.”

“He is rather handsome”, Castiel smiled. “The Queen seemed quite taken with 'the long lad' (3) as she called him. Although wearing those tight trousers...”

He stopped. His alpha was looking askance at him.

 _“Well?”_ Dean asked coldly.

“There is, as you say, nothing to him”, Castiel said, not-smirking. “His mother on the other hand – well, I have just got rid of one terrifying female in my life and do not wish to find another. I was surprised that your queen was so gracious towards her considering that in Queen Mary's time she was considered a prime candidate for the succession. And we know how Elizabeth Tudor feels about _that_ subject!”

“We do indeed!” Dean agreed.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**VII June**  
 **Windsor Palace, Berkshire (England)**

The court had removed to the relative safety of the countryside after a sudden outbreak of plague in the capital. Dean worried for Castiel who had not wanted to leave his post, but at least Westminster was a little distance from London. Hopefully he would be safe.

Dean may or may not have sniffed at his future mate's weekly letters, and may or may not have kept them in a box under his bed. And if some overly tall moose of a brother felt inclined to comment about that, he had better keep a guard on his underwear drawer!

“The Queen has approved this new book”, Cecil told him. “ _'Actes and Monuments of these Latter and Perillous (sic) Days, Touching Matters of the Church_ ' (4). The title needs work but the author's heart is in the right place.”

Dean half-listened, still worried about his mate. 

“Whitehall is under orders to effect an immediate evacuation if the plague reaches up river”, Cecil said reassuringly. “Unhappily the dreaded disease has also struck our garrison in Le Havre, although that will only bring forward their inevitable surrender. The Queen will not be pleased.”

“Cas writes me that the Scottish queen has had problems of her own”, Dean said, “although he did not say exactly what.”

“That would be Monsieur de Chastelard”, Cecil said. “Yes, she showed her usual if welcome lack of judgement in that affair. He was a French poet who conceived an overriding love for her which, foolishly, she encouraged - at least until he was found under her bed. Twice.”

“He _was_ a French poet?” Dean asked, noting the past tense. Cecil nodded.

“She had to have him executed”, he said. “People were starting to talk. I still wonder that she has not married yet, but as I have said before it is a question of finding the right person. Or more likely in her case, finding the worst possible one and marrying him!”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) The principal cathedral in Edinburgh, which was then in more or less its current form after a spate of building in the previous century. Obviously Protestant at the time, but this was Lady Novak we are talking about here, and there was not a churchman in the whole of Scotland that brave! In 1637 the cathedral would become scene to the famous incident involving an oyster-seller, an ill-judged book and a piece of badly-aimed furniture.  
2) Matthew Stuart, Earl of Lennox (1516-1571). He had backed Henry VIII's Rough Wooing campaign in the forties and as a result he and his wife had had to flee to England. He had some claim to the Scottish throne himself, being descended from King James II (ruled 1437-1460). He became regent for his grandson James VI in 1570 but was killed when Mary's supporters attempted to take Stirling Castle the following year.   
3) Henry Lord Darnley was about six foot two, so absurdly tall for his day. He was certainly one of the few men taller than Mary Queen of Scots at six foot tall, which may have explained his appeal.  
4) More famously known as _Foxe's Book of Martyrs_ , a book with sixty woodcuts and reportedly too heavy to be lifted one-handed. It detailed graphically the sufferings undergone by Protestants at the hands of Catholics, and remained an important part of Protestant children's education for centuries after. It was written by John Foxe (1516-1587) who had been in exile during the reign of Mary Tudor, but would find life almost as difficult under Elizabeth because of his strict religious beliefs. 


	16. Questions And Answers (1563)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confetti, it's a wedding! Castiel and Dean get hitched, and the alpha narrowly survives the experience of what comes next (it involves a lot of unguent and one more than slightly traumatized delivery-boy). The normally clever Samuel Winchester asks a stupid question and there is a surprise proposal.

**MDLXIII**   
**XXXI July**   
**Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

If proof were needed that miracles did happen it was that Dean's and Castiel's respective mothers had agreed everything about their wedding. It would be held on the omega's twenty-first birthday; they would have a Protestant service at St. Margaret's in Westminster then go to a private house where a Catholic priest would bless their union. Lady Novak had demanded a full Catholic wedding when they came to Scotland but she was prepared to wait for that.

“A miracle indeed”, Castiel muttered. “Just like your queen seeming to bear the news from France with remarkable fortitude this fine summer's day.”

Dean was still trying to catch his breath as the teasing omega had demonstrated just how flexible he really was. No-one should be able to do that to their own dick..... well, no-one who wasn't married (or as good as) to one Dean Winchester, anyway. At least not without warning!

“You are so bad!” he hissed, adjusting himself to the omega's visible amusement. “And the Queen knew full well that Le Havre could not be held with the French united against us.”

“But it scotches her plans to exchange it for the Calais her late sister so carelessly lost”, Castiel said shrewdly. “Not I suspect that your Lord Cecil minds. He thinks England is well rid of Continental complications.”

“So he can concentrate fully on British ones?” Dean ventured.

Castiel looked sharply at him.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XVIII September**  
 **The Road House, London (England)**

Dean still felt more than a little dazed as if he could not believe what had just happened. He had married his perfect omega and tonight he would....

All right, the advice sent down from Castiel's father had been useful. The kilt was not only ceremonial, it was infinitely better than trousers at times like these!

“You are so whipped!” Joanna Harvelle chuckled as she brought him another beer. “Or should I ask your master if you are allowed to have this?”

Dean scowled at her.

“He is”, Castiel growled making his alpha jump, “but it will be his last one. I do not want my alpha too drunk to... do his duties.”

(A certain alpha would like it mentioned at this point that he did not suddenly start breathing faster, nor did his eyes widen in terror. So there!).

“Wait till I get you back to our rooms!” Dean managed once he had caught his breath. Lord Cecil had kindly gifted his employee one of the empty rooms at Whitehall for his use. “You have not seen them yet.”

“Actually I have”, Castiel smirked. “Your brother kindly showed me round them yesterday, while you were with your mother. And I took the precaution of dropping off my box of sex toys.”

Dean grabbed him by the hand. Beer suddenly seemed not as important any more.

“We”, he said firmly, “are leaving!”

He ignored the cheers, whoops and cat-calls as he led his omega out to their carriage. This was going to be good!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIX September**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

Samandriel Novak peered cautiously into the main room but there was no-one there. Hopefully his brother and his brother's alpha were still upstairs. They really should have been up by this late hour but....

And how he was thinking of That. Ugh!

He made his way to the small kitchen and quickly began to take the food out of the basket that he had brought with him and place it in the small pantry. He was nearly done when he heard the heavy tread of someone coming down the stairs.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow-ooh! Ow! Ow!”

What was left of his brother-in-law staggered into the kitchen, looking totally wrecked. He stared blearily at the omega; Samandriel winced for a moment but thankfully now that his brother and this alpha were... well, now that they were, Dean's metabolism had automatically shut off against his new family members even if they were omegas.

“Your brother – ow! - is a sadist!” the alpha groaned, limping over to the settee. “Utterly insatiable.. ow! He's trying to.. ow... kill me!”

Dean took a cushion – two more yelps of pain as he bent over - and limped to a chair still squeaking at every step. He placed the cushion onto the chair and lowered himself gently onto it.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow.... aaaah!”

Samandriel winced again. That meant his brother had.... ugh, so not going there!

“Oh Deeeean?”

The alpha yelped again as the pain from his sudden move as he turned to look at the door. Samandriel was seriously thinking of making a run for it; no man should have to see his omega brother look like that.

“Have mercy, Cas!” Dean pleaded, his lip quivering in terror. “I am only an alpha!”

“Is there food?” Castiel growled.

“Plenty”, Samandriel said, not missing the alpha's poorly-suppressed sigh of relief. “Enough for several days so I do not need to be traumatized again any time soon.”

He left quickly though not before catching his brother growling at the alpha in a way that suggested.... ugh! And worst of all, when he got back he could be sure that his mother would insist on all the details!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIV September**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“You are terrible!” Samuel Winchester scolded as what was left of his brother limped over to the table. “And you are still wearing the kilt from the wedding.”

“Of course he is”, Mary said brightly as she brought the dinner to the table. “He has to.”

_(It should be remarked at this point that Samuel John Winchester was an exceptionally bright young omega, but even the brightest amongst humanity have the odd Moment. And they so often live to regret them)._

“Why?” Samuel asked. 

His mother smiled knowingly.

“Alphas are quite... sore in certain areas at times like these”, she smiled.

Her younger son's eyes widened in horror.

“I so did not need to know that!”

“Fortunately I understand that Lucifer has his own kilt”, Mary went on, smiling as her omega son pulled a face. “Like Dean's, made from the softest material. That was also why I put that cushion on Dean's chair and....”

Her younger son had already fled, wailing in horror.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIII October**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“It is totally amoral!” Castiel said firmly.

“Well, no-one is forcing the Spaniards to buy those slaves”, Dean countered. “And yes, Her Majesty does not like the practice – but the profit that John Hawkins made from one single trip on this new 'Triangle Trade' (1) thing of his was phenomenal. Plus she desperately needs the money.”

This was true, Castiel had to admit. The finances of England were improving but years of poor management by the queen's father, brother and sister had brought the country close to ruin. In his last letter his father had bemoaned the fact that Queen Mary seemed disinterested in her country's finances, primarily because sorting them out might upset the powerful barons. Castiel would have sympathized but his father had also enclosed another story from his mother. Seriously, a sex-obsessed omega monk who carved sex-toys and sold them in the market after he had..... ugh!

“Is the ointment working?” he asked dryly. “I do not know where my mother gets it from but she says that it is supposed to work wonders for soreness.”

His mate just looked at him.

“What?” Castiel asked.

“For all your brains to go with that beauty”, Dean grinned, “you do not seem to have figured out just why your parents would have so much of 'Mistress MacLeod's Post-Coupling Soothe-All Unguent.”

Castiel's eyes widened in horror.

“Dean!”

The alpha sniggered.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**V December**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

_'My son,_

_If news has not already reached you through the efficient offices of Lord Cecil then I shall be very much surprised, but I will tell you anyway of our Queen's reaction to this Most Surprising Development. Of course we knew that Elizabeth Tudor had an interest in whom our own sovereign lady was to marry when she did finally get her finger out, but to propose her former paramour Lord Robert Dudley of all people? And then to suggest that they should all live in England as one big happy family? I would ask as to what she was thinking, but having lived with your mother for so long I have long accepted that any understanding of the female mind will remain beyond my reach, and beyond that of every male human. Not for nothing does the Good Book observe that God promised Man that he should find obedient and tractable women in the four corners of the world, which he then proceeded to make round! Mankind has been failing to read the terms and conditions ever since!_

_There was as I am sure you are aware an initial approach last month in which Elizabeth Tudor merely suggested that our Queen might marry 'some English lord' in return for being acknowledged as rightful heir to the English throne. Which we know she is anyway although I do not dismiss (as some do) the English counter-argument that the claim is invalid because parliament has so ruled. The English are a very legal-minded race; witness the fact that even the more Protestant southern parts supported Mary Tudor despite her being a Catholic when her right to succeed was challenged by Northumberland. Our Queen's response as I advised was to ask for details and reassurances that she would indeed become the legal heiress, which brought forth the news that she was expected to marry her rival's discarded boyfriend! Really!_

_Talking of annoying lordlings, that ghastly Matthew Stuart has been in Scotland again pushing the idea that his son Lord Darnley might marry our Queen. It is an interesting idea and certainly justifiable on the grounds that marrying someone with a claim to the English throne would be beneficial. Unfortunately Darnley is a complete idiot but hopefully he might grow out of that as King of Scots._

_The news from the Continent is interesting as the Council of Trent has wound up after talking for over eighteen years. In a typical compromise the Papacy has bluntly condemned all forms of Protestantism and then admitted that yes, quite a few of the complaints (2) that led to the movement had been sort of valid, and that there will be some reforms. More fudge than in Gabriel's secret stash of sweets under the floorboards!_

_Your mother is well, apart from a sprained wrist from where she cuffed Balthazar for talking in church the other week. Michael is still jealous of Lucifer for having made a match and Raphael is currently identifying as a dragon. In other words, no change._

_Father'._

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) The Spanish were constantly short of labour for working their sugar plantations in the West Indies. Hawkins sold textiles, rum and manufactured goods from England to the kingdoms of West Africa, bought slaves from them which he transported to the West Indies, sold the slaves to the Spaniards, then purchased sugar to be sold back in England. It is worth remembering (as very few modern historians choose to do) both that African kingdoms were willing partners in the whole sordid business and that they traded equally in their captives eastwards towards the Indian Ocean for centuries until they were hindered from so doing. By the British. Oh, and that many countries there still do it somehow unnoticed by those in academia who demand 'reparations'.  
2) The two main sources of complaints in the early sixteenth century concerned indulgences and relics. Indulgences were Papal-approved slips of paper guaranteeing the holder that when they died, they would spend less or even no time in Purgatory before entering Heaven (full money back guarantee if not completely satisfied). Popes also approved official licences for the sale of religious relics, bits of dead saints or the True Cross, in return for a cut. Had Rome reformed itself and cut back on the widespread abuses of both these practices, the Western Christian Church would likely have remained united. 


	17. Double Dealing (1564)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Elizabeth and William Cecil take advantage of French difficulties to make England a nice little six-figure sum. Castiel influences his alpha over an Irish matter and gets another letter from home that makes him wish fervently that he were adopted. The two travel to Scotland for some time with the omega's family, which allows Dean to take a letter from the English queen to the Scottish one.

**MDLXIV**   
**III March**   
**St. James's Palace, London (England)**

It was said that Lord Cecil never truly smiled. But there was something dangerously akin to a smirk when a certain employee of his limped into his office and sat down very carefully on the chair. The _hard_ chair.

“Good to see you, Dean”, the Secretary said brightly. “I wish to ask you about Monsieur de Montfort.”

“The French ambassador”, the young alpha mused, then winced as he shifted on his chair. “He seems all right I suppose, although I thought he laid it on a bit thick when he was talking to the Queen yesterday.”

“You spotted that too”, Cecil said. “Yes, the news from his homeland is interesting. Now that they have forced us out of Le Havre the mutual hatred between Protestants and Catholics has re-emerged as expected. And despite the assertive young king having declared himself able to rule on his own last year – at thirteen! - the two sides are both secretly arming for the next round of conflict.”

“An armed peace”, Dean sighed. “Things do not change.”

“But perhaps an opportunity for us”, Cecil said. “King Charles will not want us threatening to arm his Protestant subjects against him, no matter how effective that might or might not be.”

“Ah”, Dean said. “So that was why the Queen was so insistent that the rights of her co-religionists be respected.”

“More that she is laying the ground for a compromise”, Cecil said. “That is one of the things I admire about her; she rues the loss of Calais and would like it back but she has come to accept – reluctantly - that such a thing is beyond this country, especially after we failed to hold Le Havre. So we have intimated to the ambassador that his monarch might, if the terms were generous enough, 'buy out' our claim to Calais.” (1)

“And keep us from helping his Protestant subjects”, Dean said.

“Oh we would still help them”, Cecil said. “Just very, very quietly.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**II April**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“I do not see what you want me to do about it”, Dean complained. “It is not as if I can influence government policy.”

Castiel frowned.

“Your government's persecution of Catholics in Ireland is known across Europe”, he said. “And now with these forays into the Queen's and King's Counties (2)....”

“She is merely revoking grants made by Bloody Mary”, Dean pointed out, “much as said lady did to grants made by her Protestant brother and predecessor.”

Castiel scowled. He hated it when his alpha was right. If he was not careful the man might start getting ideas that _he_ was in charge of this marriage!

“Surely Lord Cecil might reward you with lands somewhere?” the omega asked. “Why not Ireland?”

Dean laughed.

“You do not know the English court”, he smiled. “The Queen does not do such things for handsome young men around the court lest they leave her to manage those lands.”

“And that applies to you how?”

It was the alpha's turn to scowl.

“Well, I suppose that you are right”, Castiel sighed. “A pity. But you could still approach someone like Lord Fitzgerald whose voice carries a lot of weight at court. He is a major landowner over there.”

“One would not think so to look at him!” Dean laughed. “Poor Garth. He turned up to court with a sock-puppet on one hand the other day; even the Queen was hard-put not to laugh!”

“Because if you did”, Castiel said his voice suddenly dropping, “then I might be persuaded to get out the green panties......”

Dean was suddenly having difficulty breathing.

“And I might even let you wear them!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**VI April**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

What was left of Dean had a quiet word with Lord Fitzgerald.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXI June**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

_'My darling son,_

_I am writing this on your father's behalf as he has a sprained wrist. I shall not mortify you as to exactly how it happened, except to say that he is not as young as he was and not as flexible, either!'_

Castiel pulled out his handkerchief to wipe away the tears.

_'Your father continues to worry over the English queen who has once more pulled off a successful stroke of policy. Using the threat of intervening to support her fellow Protestants in France she has persuaded the gullible young French king to buy her out of the Treaty of Troyes, forgoing her claims to Calais for a mere £120,000. Doubtless poor King Charles think it cheap at half the price, but if he actually thinks that will stop Elizabeth and that rogue Cecil from interfering in his country, he must be dumber than he looks!_

_There is the usual speculation up here about precisely whom our own Queen will marry. With so few foreign rulers suitable it at least looks likely to be a Scotsman. That rapscallion Matthew Stuart is back again pushing the claims of his son Lord Darnley. I have heard the boy is a complete airhead and the father is little better; he actually told your father that Elizabeth was unaware of his leaving England. I would wager that she was aware the moment he left his house in Yorkshire!_

_You will remember last year that scandal with that silly Frenchman who broke into the Queen's bedroom, and had to be hung. Such a pity as he was quite nice-looking. Your father is growing a little concerned about another foreigner who might be headed the same way, namely a Piedmontese (3) called David Rizzio, one of the Queen's musicians. I do not see it myself – he is short, hunchbacked and quite ugly – but you know what they say about Italian men! Indeed, your father's grandfather was Italian which.... well, it is true that some hereditary things pass down a 'long' way.'_

Castiel cried again.

_'I am delighted that the two of you are hoping to spend some considerable time with us over the coming autumn and winter, and look forward to attending your real wedding. Until you have seen your father's attempt to dancing you have not lived – or possibly you will wish yourself dead!_

_Your loving Mother'._

A pair of strong alpha arms wrapped themselves around him.

“A letter from home”, Dean rumbled. “Someone needs to be..... held.”

Castiel smiled through the tears at his alpha's inability to use the c-word, but he would forgive him this once.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**I October**  
 **Eltham Palace, Kent (England)**

Dean bowed deeply to his Queen.

“So you are your mate leave for Scotland on tomorrow's high tide”, Elizabeth said. “Ah well, so it must be. I would have you deliver a letter to my dear cousin the Queen of Scots.”

A servant stepped forward and handed Dean a sealed scroll.

“You do not ask what is in it?” the Queen asked.

“I am but a humble messenger”, Dean said. “You would inform me if there was something I needed to know about it.”

“A good answer”, Elizabeth smiled. “It informs my dear cousin that come the new year, I shall be allowing Lord Darnley to pay a visit to his homeland. I shall also be sending the Scots queen a gift of fine horses as a sign of my goodwill. And I am reiterating my request that she marry Lord Dudley whom I am creating Earl of Leicester so that there is no disparagement.” (4)

And she will go ballistic, Dean thought.

“How do you think my cousin will react?” the Queen asked politely.

Dean gulped. 

“She might... that is, she may possibly not consider the idea to be quite in her best interests?” he ventured.

The Queen looked sharply at him. Dean did not tremble. Besides it was cold in the room.

“She will of course go ballistic”, Elizabeth said. “I am adding a note that whilst I am content to allow Lord Darnley to quit England, I would take it _very_ much amiss if she were to do something so foolish as to consider marrying _him_.”

Dean was about to say it when a thought struck him.

“So she will go and do just that!” he exclaimed.

The Queen smiled sourly.

“The good Lord Cecil has hopes”, she said. “He believes that one day a son of my cousin may rule over both our nations and bring peace to this island. A peace that it could well do with.”

“But Lord Darnley is a.....”

Dean stopped. The Queen smiled amusedly.

“A nincompoop?” she said. “An imbecile? A rattlepate?”

Dean stared hard at the floor. Slowly he got it.

“So if she does marry him”, he said carefully, “it will be a disaster. It may well ruin her.”

“But hopefully not before Cecil gets his son and heir!” the Queen smiled.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIII December**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

The sea-journey North had been long and difficult, but Castiel and Dean had made it safely to Scotland where they had been welcomed by the omega's family. Dean quite liked Lord Charles Novak, was still terrified by his mother-in-law (especially when he saw that her story notebook was out!), and thought most of their other sons were complete headcases. 

“I must agree with my alpha in that assessment”, Castiel said when Dean told him. “What did you think of 'Seigneur Davie', our Piedmontese?”

“A man on the make”, Dean said firmly. “And now the queen's new secretary, which is odd.” (5)

“Because you think him incapable of the job?” Castiel asked. “He is, I suppose, only a beta.”

“I meant your queen sacking her French secretary and replacing him with an Italian one”, Dean said. “It looks as if she is abandoning the French camp in European affairs and moving into the Spanish one. I wonder what that means for England?”

“I am sure your Lord Cecil has already worked out the implications”, Castiel said. “Indeed, he probably knew before the outgoing secretary. But I agree with you that Mr. Rizzio is someone to watch. I wonder what will happen when my Queen gets back from her visit to the Highlands and receives your letter from England.”

I shall be standing well back for one thing, Dean thought.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) The Treaty of Cateau-Cambresis offered a fig-leaf to the English in that the French were supposed to return Calais after eight years, although both sides knew such a thing was unenforceable given England's weakness. Elizabeth accepting money for a claim she could not make use of was therefore a sensible decision. The sum is worth at least £36 million ($46 million) at 2019 prices.  
2) Two areas of inland southern Ireland settled by Catholic settlers sent by Mary Tudor and her Spanish husband Philip II in an attempt to limit Protestant expansionism from the English areas along the east and south coasts. Today they are County Laois (or Leix) and County Offaly respectively.  
3) Italy was divided at the time between the Kingdom of Naples-Sicily (the southern half, ruled by King Philip of Spain), the Papal States in a small band in the centre, and various independent kingdoms in the north of which Piedmont (the area around Turin) was one of the larger ones. It was at this time part of the Kingdom of Savoy, and its incorporation led to a shift in that kingdom from being French to being more Italian.  
4) Ladies with money were often 'disparaged', compelled to marry against their wishes to a husband who would then take complete control of their estates. Elizabeth was of course being her opportunistic self in elevating her favourite under the pretence of a marriage she knew would never happen.  
5) Rizzio had no qualifications for his new post and Mary did not seem to gain in any way by upsetting the French; indeed her annual dowry from them as a former queen more than paid for the running of the Scottish government. More than one person wondered exactly why she would have such a man close to her...... 


	18. Always Read The Label (1565)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After deciding to Stay-Longer Dean tries a Fiery Furnace, wherein he makes a very slight, quite minor and completely understandable reading error. However apart from a number of days in which he is unable to sit down, move about or attempt complicated facial expressions, the consequences do not seem too severe - yet. Queen Mary seems enamoured of her handsome cousin Henry Lord Darnley and her barons are less than pleased at that. But what can they actually do?

**MDLXV**   
**IV January**   
**Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“So that was Mary Queen of Scots.”

Castiel nodded, and looked at his mate.

“What did you think of her?” he asked curiously.

“Not as good as my Queen when it comes to hiding her emotions”, he said thoughtfully. “She was clearly annoyed at the suggestion that she should marry an English earl. She did not really seem to be interested in having one of her own lords back again. Have she and Lord Darnley ever met?”

“He was one of those in the party dispatched to bring her back from France, four years ago”, Castiel said. “I do not think there can have been anything between them back then; you know as well as I do how a royal court operates. We would have known if there had been.”

“But he would have been barely sixteen at the time”, Dean pointed out. “People do change as they become men. And he is an alpha.”

“Yes, the sort who needs to wear those heavy alpha bracelets in case he or anyone around him forgets that fact!” Castiel said, not at all cattily.

“Meow!”

“I would be nicer to the omega who you will be taking home and fucking senseless for the next two hours.”

Dean's eyes widened in shock.

“How can you just come out and say things like that?” he demanded as he followed the omega back to their apartments. 

“Very easily”, Castiel grinned. “Besides, I have a new solution of Mistress MacLeod's to try. Her 'Stay-Longer Unguent'.”

No doubt about it, this omega was trying to kill him through sex, Dean thought as he hastily adjusted his kilt and hurried after his mate. Well, just let him try.

 _Please_ just let him try!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIV February**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Mother wishes to know if you might attend a church service with the family this coming weekend”, 

Dean groaned at the thought. It had been ten days since they had last used some of Mistress MacLeod's 'Stay-Longer Unguent' – aptly named it had turned out – and he was still sore.

“Bare boards?” he not-whined. “And listening to some preacher go on about religious matters whilst your mother makes cow-eyes at your father? Let alone your mad siblings; Gabriel and Balthazar will be playing jokes, Michael and Lucifer will be glaring daggers at each other, and Raphael currently thinks he is a Viking!”

“They are not that bad”, Castiel said defensively. “And the Viking thing was last week; now Rafe thinks he is King Arthur.”

Dean just looked at him.

“All right, I will pass on your excuses”, the omega smiled. “In the meantime Mistress MacLeod has another unguent for us to try.”

“The woman must be a witch”, Dean muttered.

“I would not let her hear you say that out loud”, his mate said. “The last man to call her thus.... well, it was not just his credit that dropped off unexpectedly!”

Dean winced.

“Besides this next one is for me, not you”, Castiel said. “And like the last one, it has to be done at the Full Moon, which is not for another three weeks.”

He smiled at the poorly-suppressed sigh of relief from his alpha. He would let Dean enjoy his moment – and reveal the panties later! Perhaps his father had been right after all about taking out that life-insurance policy on his husband....

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXVI February**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Lord Darnley is worse than I remember”, Dean said as they watched the dancers before them. “I swear; if I tapped the side of his head we could all hear the ding!”

Castiel chuckled.

“He is certainly not overly blessed with brains”, he said. “But then when you have good looks....”

He smirked at his alpha's sudden change in scent and the wary look that came with it.

“Do not worry alpha”, he said reassuringly. “I am only yours.”

“Quite right”, Dean muttered, adjusting his kilt. It was colder than trousers, but with the demands his omega made on him... well, cold air was quite soothing. 

His omega did not need to smile knowingly like that, either!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XVI March, MDLXV**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Right”, Castiel said. “Let us try this 'Fiery Furnace Fixative'. It is meant to stimulate a fake heat and I have never had one before, so it could be interesting.”

“Mistress MacLeod is very exacting about her requirements for these things”, Dean said. “'A clear and clean glass containing precisely one and a half jacks (1) of distilled water'. I got that yesterday. 'The juice of one crushed cherry or one crushed blackcurrant, _not_ both'. And... what is this she has written here? 'Five to six teaspoons of the fixative; do not exceed the stated dose - or else!'”

“Some of her products can be dangerous”, Castiel said as Dean carefully measured off the teaspoons into the glass. “It looks very cloudy.”

“Well, she must know what she is doing”, Dean said. “After all, she is a wi..... woman of some renown.”

“Good save”, Castiel muttered as he took the purple solution from his husband. “The moon is up, so here goes....”

A few moments later, it was not just the moon that was up.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**I March**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

If Dean thought he had been sore after his first time with his mate, that had been nothing. He hurt in every part of his body (all right, one part hurt quite a bit more and he would be wearing the kilt for days if not weeks). The potion had indeed worked and Castiel had duly had his first ever heat.

Then his second.

Then his third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh....

It was entirely possible that Dean may have blacked out at some point. He had a vague recollection of coming to and finding Castiel fucking himself on a recumbent alpha, and there may possibly have been some tears that might not have come from the Scotsman. Just possibly.

Dean glared at the kitchen furniture as if it were to blame for his current agonies. Even with a cushion there was no way he was sitting down any time soon. He limped to the pantry, then smiled at the food store there. At least Castiel's fearsome mother always kept them well supplied with food and saints be praised there was even pie....

“Oh Deeeeean!”

The alpha's blood ran cold. Please Lord not again!

+~+~+

Again.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXX March**  
 **Princes Street, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

It was just chance that Dean (or what was left of him) happened to encounter Mistress MacLeod in the capital that day. That and the fact that this was the first day he had been able to walk without chafing so much that he yelped at every step. Even with a kilt!

The wi.... lady operated out of a small apothecary shop called The Wall Mart at the entrance to one of the little side-alleys by the main gate and she was at the door when Dean walked by. He greeted her and she asked about her latest potion.

“Definitely effective!” he reassured her. “Cas took it fourteen days ago and I've only just about recovered.”

She looked surprised at that.

“It was only supposed to generate a single fake heat”, she said. “Did you get more than one?”

Dean blushed.

“I sort of lost count after the seventh”, he admitted. 

“And you took it exactly as instructed?” she asked still frowning for some reason.

“Right down to just one of the fruits”, Dean said. “And I went for the safe option and only used five rather than six spoonfuls....”

He stopped. She was looking at him in horror.

“Dean”, she said carefully, “the dosage was _five-sixths_ of a teaspoon. Not _five to six_.”

The alpha suddenly felt very queasy.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XV April**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Thankfully there seemed no ill effects from their overuse of Rowena's potion except that Castiel seemed to want sex even more often. Dean could live with that. Well, most of Dean could live with that.

“Moray is not happy”, Castiel sighed as they lay together one evening (they were definitely not cuddling whatever anyone said so the alpha's manliness was quite safe). “He fears that the Queen grows ever closer to her cousin.”

“And if she marries him and has a son, then the earl's chances of grabbing power grow even less”, Dean said. “Unless of course something then happens to the queen and he takes over as regent for the boy.”

Castiel looked sharply at Dean.

“Do you know something I do not?” he demanded.

“Most probably... ow! Be careful where you put that elbow, omega!”

Castiel sniggered. His alpha huffed indignantly but allowed himself to be pulled back into a.... manly embrace.

“He is not the only lord to feel worried”, Dean said. “A Catholic queen taking a Catholic husband to establish a Catholic dynasty – all in a country where the Protestant lords have enriched themselves mightily at the Church's expense (2). The barons think that if the Queen can make herself strong enough she may try to prise some of those lands back.”

“They were rightfully the property of the Church in the first place”, Castiel pointed out.

“And who did they take them from?” Dean queried.

“Be quiet alpha, or I shall decide that I require sex. Again _and_ again!”

It was Castiel thought most unbecoming of an omega to delight in making his alpha mate shudder like that. And yes, also most enjoyable!

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) A jack was (and still is) one-eight of a pint, or 71ml.   
2) Because Scotland had opted for the Presbyterian system of Protestantism (no lands remaining to the bishops; local church elders decide things) and also because their ruler had been away being Queen of France, the Scottish barons had done proportionately even better than their English brethren from the Reformation. Hence they had much more to lose. Efforts by Mary's grandson Charles I in the 1630s to get those lands back would lead to the Bishops' Wars, the English Civil War and Charles losing his head. 


	19. Oops! (1565)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are Consequences to Dean's mis-reading the instructions, and for the idjits they will last a further six months or so and thereafter involve a lot of nappy-changing of which a certain green-eyed alpha will do his full share - or else! The omega does not demand sex twenty-four hours a day although to what is left of his alpha it sure feels like it. Queen Mary marries Lord Darnley and there are problems almost at once.

**MDLXV**   
**XXIV May**   
**Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Are you all right?” Dean whispered anxiously to his mate. “You look sicker than poor Moray over there, glaring daggers at the queen and her soon-to-be husband.”

Castiel smiled despite himself.

“I am feeling a little unwell”, he admitted. “I think we might go to Father and make our excuses, then retire for the evening.”

Dean did not press the matter but he was concerned. His mate had seemed rather poorly for a few days now although his appetite remained good. And the fact that his in-laws exchanged knowing glances with each other (at the same time which was rather creepy) did not lessen the alpha's growing sense that something, somewhere was not quite right.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**III June, MDLXV**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean moaned, wincing as he felt the hard floor beneath him. Why was he lying here again?

Oh yes, he had come home and Castiel had said that he had something rather important to tell him and that the omega was..... holy fuck!

“You're pregnant!” he yelled sitting up sharply.

“Mistress MacLeod confirmed it”, Castiel said, looking less than thrilled at the news himself. “And my mother because.... well, she knows about such things. I am so sorry, Dean.”

The alpha blinked several times.

“How hard did I hit my head?” he asked carefully.

“Only on the clothes-basket which went down with you”, Castiel said. “I know that this is not what you wanted....”

“You're pregnant!”

Castiel stared at him, feeling even more nervous. Dean was not good with words at the best of times but now he seemed almost speechless.

“I'm going to be a father!”

“Well, yes, it sort of seems that....”

The omega got no further because his alpha was holding him tightly to his chest, alternating between whispers of love and moans of shock. And the occasional kiss. Or seven. There may even have been cudd.... manly embracing.

Castiel smiled at last. His mate seemed to have taken the news rather better than he had expected.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**IV June**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“But how can _you_ be pregnant, Cassie?” Gabriel demanded. “Everyone knows you're barren..... oof!”

The beta suddenly found two strong alpha hands around his neck. He whined in terror, his situation not helped when his younger brother looked decidedly disinterested in calling off his angry mate.

“Help! Get him off!”

The omega yawned, stared at his nails for some considerable time then shrugged his shoulders.

“Not just now, Dean”, he said quietly.

His alpha loosened his death-grip and returned to his side, still glaring at Gabriel. Then at Raphael, who had let out something perilously close to a snigger which he turned rapidly into a cough as he slid quickly behind his mother. Quite impressive for someone currently identifying as an African elephant.

“I am _so_ pleased!” Lady Novak beamed. “And a Christmas baby!”

Balthazar sniggered.

“That means you're going to be a grandmo.... ow!”

Dean was impressed. Even his Queen might have had difficulty throwing a candlestick that fast.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIV June**  
 **The Law College (1), Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Lady Novak had insisted that the small apartment that the men had been allocated in the palace was no place to raise a child of hers. She and her husband had found a small suite of rooms at the nearby law college which, with some careful manoeuvring on his part, had been made available to the soon to be family.

Dean was having trouble with his breathing again. He was going to have a family. He was going to be a father!

“Most likely a son”, Mistress MacLeod had assured him. She had offered to tell them exactly what but Castiel had declined, although she had said that it would be healthy. “Omegas are more likely to produce boys than women, and your mother-in-law had seven boys against only one girl which also sways the odds.”

The alpha had winced at the reminder that Lady Novak was his mother-in-law – she had made him read her latest story the other week and he still shuddered every time he went to the privy – but had thanked the wit... woman. 

“My stepson Crowley is coming down this week”, she said. “He is an omega too. He is travelling all the way from Dundee and unfortunately he hates boats so he has to go the long way round on land.”

“I suppose you have a guard with him for the journey”, Dean said. She just laughed.

“He is my stepson”, she said, “and everybody knows that fact.”

Very true, Dean thought.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**X July**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean had cause to be even more grateful to Mistress MacLeod this particular week, as she had kindly given him a bottle of her 'S.C.A.R.E.' unguent. Foolishly he had asked why it was called that and she had smiled when she had told him that it stood for Sublimely Cool After Rutting Excessively. 

Boy, had he needed it! Castiel had been insatiable these past two weeks, and Dean had had to carry him around their rooms at one point impaled on his dick, the omega taking his pleasure as and when he chose. Dean had baulked at such a request at first but the cruel omega had just pulled out the Quivering Lip and Dean had folded immediately. Now he was carefully applying the unguent, both wincing at the coldness and then at the relief.

“Now _there_ is a sight that I could get used to!” came a familiar growl from the doorway.

Dean uttered up a silent prayer. Please Lord, just a few more minutes of recovery time! Fortunately the omega seemed more interested in the food he had put out and began to devour the bread and butter like his life depended on it.

“I saw poor Moray when I was out earlier”, Dean told his mate. “He still looked as sour as anything. Less than three weeks now until your queen marries her 'long lad' and he gets shut out of things.”

The omega finished his bread before speaking.

“I dare say that our 'Seigneur Davie' is feeling similarly _distrait_ ”, he observed. “Let us hope that neither tries anything foolish in an attempt to stop the wedding. Have you heard from England?”

Dean winced.

“Yes”, he said. “Cecil said that he felt inclined to echo Cardinal Wolsey's remarks on his master Henry VIII finding out his younger sister had married against his wishes, namely that 'the news was received grievously and displeasantly'. My Queen has her father's temper so I do not envy the poor sot who had to break it to her.”

“Doubtless an angry letter is already winging its way to my mistress blaming her for her perfidy in marrying against her cousin's wishes”, Castiel sighed. “I am in the mood for..... what am I in the mood for?”

Dean prayed even harder.

“More food”, Castiel smiled. “At least, for now.....”

The alpha wondered if Mistress MacLeod kept any extra supplies of this unguent.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIX July**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Mercifully for Dean this particular phase of the pregnancy passed off three days before the Scottish queen's wedding, so with the help of plenty more unguent and his softest kilt, he was able to attend. His mother-in-law giving him the thumbs-up from across the hall though.... not appreciated.

Castiel returning the sign was pushing it. And all those people looking at them both and smirking... if there wasn't a royal wedding going on here he would have hit somebody. If he could have moved without hurting Down There.

“I still think the groom is an idiot”, he whispered. “And I cannot believe that the queen did not obtain a dispensation before marrying him.”

“Perhaps she Is giving herself an escape clause if it does not work out?” Castiel suggested. “Should Darnley make any bid for power at her expense the Pope could easily declare the marriage illegal on those grounds.”

Dean shook his head.

“She is marrying for love”, he said, “and look what happened to poor Anne Boleyn when she did the same.”

“Marrying for love works sometimes”, Castiel smiled. “For example, an alpha in love can forgive his omega wearing his favourite blue panties to a royal wedding.”

Dean was suddenly having difficulty with his breathing.

“Later, alpha”, Castiel growled, enjoying the way in which his mate's eyes darkened with lust. “Unless you want to take me right amid the wedding banquet.”

Dean was sorely (in both senses) tempted!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIV August**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

_'My Lord Cecil,_

_Thank you for your last letter from England. I cannot believe that poor Mary Grey (2) would be so silly as to try to marry without the Queen's permission, especially now it is definitely illegal. She can hardly be surprised that both she and her husband are under house-arrest, can she?_

_Moray and several of his close acquaintances have withdrawn to Glasgow where he is stronger, and are reported to be forming an army to march against the queen. My own opinion is that they are foolish so to do; she is very popular with her recent marriage despite it being to a fellow Catholic, which is strange. These people do not seem to have thought through that if they have a son who is raised in their religion, Scotland may be lost to the True Faith. As we both know the common people supported her English namesake barely a decade ago, and we all know how badly that ended._

_You asked me to monitor the new king and there are already developments in that particular field. The servants tell me that he wishes not just the title of King but the Crown Matrimonial; in other words to take full power from his wife. He has not broached this matter with her yet and the current problems with Moray will doubtless delay matters, but I thought that you should be informed. She will of course say no which I doubt he will take well._

_I must go as my omega is calling for me. If I have the strength I will write again soon._

_Dean'._

Cecil noted the slightly uneven writing, especially in the last two sentences, and smiled to himself. The young these days!

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Predecessor to the modern university, which it evolved into in 1582.  
2) Mary Grey (b. 1545), youngest sister of the ill-starred Queen Jane (ruled for nine days in 1553) and Lady Catherine (in the Tower, two children by Lord Hertford). Mary had secretly married one Thomas Keyes of the Queen's guard, for which both spent four years under house-arrest. He died in 1571 not long after his release, and she was later reconciled with the Queen before herself dying in 1578. She was, as Cecil had remarked before, in one way 'fortunate' that her dwarfism severely weakened her claim to the English throne. 


	20. Births, Beds And Barons (1565)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The revolt against Queen Mary's marriage to her cousin Henry Lord Darnley fizzles out and several of the rebels flee the country. But said marriage subsequently starts to show signs of strain and it comes as little surprise when her husband seeks solace elsewhere – although the 'where' is a bit of a surprise! Castiel is not the least bit temperamental during his pregnancy and a certain green-eyed alpha does not faint when the birth finally happens. He may however have interfaced temporarily with the floor...

**MDLXV**   
**XXVI August**   
**Linlithgow Palace, West Lothian (Scotland)**

“They say that she is bewitched.”

Castiel tutted at his husband and eased himself carefully onto the chair. He had suspected he was carrying twins or more given his huge size, but both his mother and Mistress MacLeod had assured him that there was only one. His size had caused him to rethink his prohibition on knowing and the latter lady had even given him a date (and a time, impressively) and had told him to expect an alpha.

Talking of alphas one was watching him anxiously from across the table at the reception. Not that the omega was experiencing a temperamental phase in his pregnancy and any alpha who said otherwise was sleeping on the settee tonight. If he was really annoying Castiel might demand sex first as well!

“Mere gossip”, the omega sighed. “I do hope that there will not be a battle when my Queen catches up with her half-brother. It is so wrong for Scotsmen to kill Scotsmen.”

“He is variously reported to be heading north, south and straight towards her”, Dean said. “Are you all right?”

“Did Mistress MacLeod have any of that unguent I asked for?” Castiel asked. “Or did she say she would have to make some up?”

Dean sighed but handed him a small jar of something that was a virulent light green, and labelled 'Brilliant Bump-Ease Balm'. His mate looked at him in surprise.

“Your mother had some”, Dean said. “She and your father.... well, they use it for.... things.”

Castiel winced.

“Did you have to tell me that over food?”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**VI September**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_'Dear Dean,_

_I hope this missive finds you well (and not_ too _tired). The burst of developments caused by this 'Chaseabout Raid' is keeping us on our toes; hardly had the Queen dispatched a most angry and vituperative letter to her cousin about her marrying the one man she had told her not to when we heard of the rebellion. It is annoying that Moray and his men have 'jumped the gun' as they say nowadays; if they had but waited a while they would have been better able to take advantage of the rifts in the royal marriage which will surely arise when a nincompoop weds an airhead. Reluctant as I am to say it about any woman, our mistress was right on this one._

_As you are probably already aware Moray had retreated to Dumfries not far from the border, and then signalled his intention to enter England with his army. His behaviour has vexed the Queen considerably; much as she wishes her rival ill she cannot publicly countenance any open revolt against a fellow monarch (privately supporting it is of course another matter). We sent urgently to the earl telling him not to come to London but our messenger somehow contrived to miss him so I have had to send a second man. How one misses an entire army... well, one cannot get the staff these days._

_A moment of light relief at court the other day, which I know will be of interest to you. The Queen is quite enamoured of your brother-in-law Lucifer Novak, and one of the courtiers, a ghastly young buck called Metatron Armstrong of all things, propositioned your brother Samuel right in front of him. The alpha named after the devil nearly strangled the man, much to the Queen's ill-concealed amusement; at least everyone knows now that Master Samuel Winchester is pledged._

_As I am sure you would do anyway please keep me informed of any future developments, especially as regards your resident nincompoop._

_Cecil'_.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXX October**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“My Queen is not pleased”, Dean said. “Moray somehow contrived to get as far south as Royston with his army, barely forty miles from the capital. He was quite publicly berated for daring to raise an army against a sovereign monarch; he was lucky she did not box his ears in front of everyone”

“And then he was quite privately berated for failing to succeed in so doing”, Castiel smiled.

“Cynical omega!”

“Correct omega!”

Dean smiled but he guessed that Castiel was probably right on this one. Though he did not need to be told that. He stared lovingly at his mate as he waddled carefully over to a chair before sitting down slowly.

“Do you think Mistress MacLeod is correct about the birth happening on the twelfth of December?” Dean asked.

“Probably”, his mate said. “And about it being an alpha. And happening at a quarter past twelve. She is right about most things.”

“Only most?” Dean smiled.

“Well, she did tell me to avoid a certain green-eyed alpha once....”

Castiel held his expression for an impressively long time before Dean's pout made him lose it. And the huff that followed was even cu.... better!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**VII November**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

Cecil stared fretfully at his wine. An unexpected letter from Dean Winchester was worrisome enough but when the lad sent it in the difficult advanced code – he had to have something that he did not wish to have even the slightest risk of being discovered by the Scots. Not of course that they had anyone of the Secretary's calibre up there.

A servant hurried in with the decoded letter and placed it before him, then bowed and left. Cecil hesitated briefly before unfolding it:

_'My Lord Cecil,_

_A most curious development has taken place here which I knew you would wish to be apprised of as soon as possible. It concerns the king who, as both you and our Queen foretold, is rapidly putting himself into bad odour with his new wife. First there was the matter of the coins she issued picturing both of them, which she later withdrew. And now she has made it clear to him that she was not prepared to grant him the Crown Matrimonial – to sign over all her powers to him as her husband – which he took it badly. Very badly._

_The Italian secretary David Rizzio is doubtless more than happy with these developments and I owe the man you had most wisely had planted in the kitchens, Gadreel Evans, for my knowledge of what has happened. 'Seigneur Davie' is highly adept at concealing his emotions in public and doubtless when he is with the queen, but it seems that he has recently taken a lover as a figure was seen leaving his bedchamber at a most improper hour and looking decidedly dishevelled to boot._

_It was the king.'_

Cecil's eyebrows shot up. Well!

_'Gadreel says that two of the other staff have seen the king coming from the direction of the secretary's private quarters (which he would have no reason to visit otherwise), though not actually leaving his room. If I am aware of this it cannot be long before the Scottish lords, angry at the enforced exile of Moray and so many of their colleagues, come to learn that the two men they most hate are quite literally in bed together. The next few months will be..... interesting._

_Dean'_

Cecil took a deep breath and then slowly re-read the letter to make sure that he had not missed anything.

“Oh Darnley”, he muttered as he sipped his wine. “You silly, silly boy.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XII December**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean yelped in shock as he found himself suddenly being soaked with a bucket of water. He sat up sharply – why was he lying on the floor in the first place, come to that?

Oh yes his mate had gone into labour and he had.... fallen. That was it. The knowing smirks on the faces of Lady Novak and Mistress MacLeod may have suggested otherwise but that was his story and he was sticking to it!

“Welcome back to the land of the conscious, o great alpha!” Mistress MacLeod grinned. “You will be delighted to know that whilst you were testing the coldness of that stone floor, you became a father.”

Dean blinked and stood up. Sure enough, his mate was lying in bed holding what was most definitely a baby.

“How did that get here?” he demanded.

The two women looked at each other. Both opened their mouths to state the obvious, but a look from the still sweating omega stopped them.

“An alpha as foretold”, Castiel said smiling at his mate. “Your first-born son. What do you wish to name him?”

Dean hesitated.

“I quite like the name that you made up the other week”, he said. “Scaden, from the different letters in 'Dean' and 'Cas'.”

“Awwww!” both ladies cooed.

Dean would have done something quite rude in response, but now Castiel was looking at him. He smiled innocently at his mate, then down at his first-born son.

His son! And why was this room so damn dusty that his eyes were watering? You could not get the cleaning staff these days!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXV December**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“It must be love”, Gabriel whispered to Balthazar as they watched their nephew being christened. “No alpha should look that happy at being told he cannot have sex for a whole six months.... ow!”

Both young betas stared in astonishment as they rubbed their aching ears. They had been sure that their mother had been safely on the other side of the font.

“It was very good of the queen to allow us to use the chapel this Christmas Day”, Dean said to his father-in-law as the priest rambled slowly through what seemed like half the Bible. He and Castiel had agreed that with their different religions, their son would be baptized in both faiths and allowed to choose his own once he was old enough.

“She is in a good mood this week”, Lord Charles Novak. “I am not sure why; I thought the news from the Americas might displease her but maybe now she is closer to the Spanish rather than the French party in Europe she does not mind.”

“News?” Dean asked.

“The Spanish have asserted themselves on the American mainland and destroyed the French settlement at Fort Caroline, the replacement for Charlesfort”, the older man said. “I do not doubt that your queen will be concerned.”

“Why?” Dean asked. “ _We_ are not at war with Spain.”

“Yet.”

Dean was about to ask about that last word when he suddenly realized that the priest had fallen silent and everyone was waiting for him to formally acknowledge the baby as his before it could be fully christened.

“I love your papa so much, Scaden”, he said, sniffing with a slight cold that he seemed to have acquired from somewhere, “and I truly accept you as my and his blood.”

“Awwww!”

His mother-in-law might be allowed that one, Dean thought generously.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎


	21. Cold Steel (1566)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Mary realizes a little too late that her Italian secretary is not exactly popular when her husband and some of her barons drag him away, and then stab him over fifty times. By an amazing coincidence (ahem!) Mary's half-brother just happens to arrive back in Scotland almost immediately afterwards. There are English ships that are not English ships and Dean is advised by his father-in-law to watch a new man at court.

**MDLXVI**   
**IV January**   
**Eltham Palace, Kent (England)**

The Queen had taken the news rather better than he had expected, Cecil thought as he stood before her. Then again at least he had had the sense to tell her in private rather than before the court. And at a time when she had nothing throwable within reach. He made a mental note to make sure her enemies heard about her anger at her cousin's good fortune and how this would make any reconciliation between them even less likely.

With any luck.

“Is it definite?” she asked eventually.

“Yes, Your Majesty”, Cecil said. “It has been confirmed by all of her doctors.”

The Queen looked strangely at him.

“So it seems that you, my lord, are one step closer to your ambition”, she said coolly. “If it is a son he may one day be a viable heir to _my_ throne.”

“Only if he is raised as a good Protestant”, Cecil said firmly.

The Queen hesitated looking strangely uncertain. Cecil could guess why.

“Lord Winchester has a contact with one of the ladies at court who know of such things”, he said. “Not one of the Scottish queen's official doctors but she is always there, and highly observant. She told him that conception would have been no later than October 12th. His father and mother were together around that time; she had not yet refused him the Crown Matrimonial.”

“And the marriage?” Elizabeth asked.

“Heading for the rocks under full sail”, Cecil said firmly. “The Scottish barons are still angry that she keeps her half-brother and their friends out of the country, and they will see the split between husband and wife as their opportunity.”

“And people wonder why I never married!” the Queen sighed.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**V January**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Castiel was annoyed. Dean knew that from the minute he returned.

“Your father delayed me”, the alpha said apologetically. “He had a copy of the latest scandalous cartoon that is being pinned up on doors around the city. 'Will the new prince speak his first word in Scots – or Italian?'”

“You still said you would be back by five”, the omega said plaintively. “I had to change his nappy twice in that time.”

His alpha mate was too well-trained to sigh in relief. Castiel smiled at him.

“But Mother called by”, he said, “and she wants you to read her latest short story.”

“Cas!” Dean not-whined. “Please!”

“If I have to read it, then so do you”, the omega said firmly. “In fact you can read it and then tell me about it. As briefly as possible for when Mother questions me if you don't mind; I cannot believe she came up with that one about the three Roman gladiators 'relaxing'!”

Dean winced.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXV January**  
 **Greenwich Palace, Kent (England)**

_'My Lord Cecil,_

_Although my fatherhood duties are keeping me busy, I have been closely monitoring developments at court of which there are several. I wish there were some way that I could inform you quicker but the English merchant who keeps ships and horses ready in Leith will have to do._

_The behaviour of Lord Darnley – I am afraid that I cannot think of him as 'King Henry' especially with his behaviour as of late – is growing increasingly erratic. His relationship (whatever it was) with 'Seigneur Davie' has clearly ruptured and he speaks openly of his hatred for the fellow. The Queen does not help matters by both shunning her husband and keeping the Piedmontese with her as often as possible. At least she has the sense to never be alone with him or the gossips would have a field-day!_

_I have also heard that Darnley has been seen with several of the Protestant lords, in particular the Earl of Morton (1). Unfortunately they take care to always meet at the earl's house – clearly someone is wise – so I am unable to report on what they are discussing. Gadreel tells me however that he thinks the earl may be hinting to the nincompoop about the queen's relationship with Rizzio and the questionable paternity of the child she is bearing. I would not be surprised if that were the case; indeed I am surprised that Morton was forgiven for his role, even though it was a minor one, in the 'Chaseabout Raid'.'_

Cecil smiled dourly at that. His own agents had brought that about by suggesting to the Scottish queen that she needed at least some supporters amongst the barons.

 _'Finally I must pass on something that my father-in-law said to me the other day which I considered a little unusual but which may interest you. It concerns James Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell and a Borderer lord. He had already proved a bone of contention between the queen and her husband when he was appointed to lead the armies against the rebel barons during the recent troubles. Bothwell is to marry one Lady Jean Gordon, a match that the queen will bless with her presence. I mention it because Lord Charles said that I might keep an eye on Bothwell as he is 'the coming man'. He is about thirty years of age and a very rough fellow; I cannot imagine anyone more different than the dilettante Darnley. Perhaps_ he _might want to marry the queen one day!_

 _Dean'_.

Perhaps he might, Cecil thought. And perhaps the fact that the exiled Moray, whose half-sister still hates him for what he tried to do over her marriage, has suddenly said that he plans to return home in spring is.... interesting. Especially as I know that he has received no encouragement from Queen Mary. Who knew what might happen?

Well, he knew. But then he had to.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**IX March**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean Winchester tried not to 'go all alpha' over his mate except when said mate gave him permission of course. Not that he was whipped in that aspect but..... 

He was not running along the corridors back to their apartments. It was a fast walk at best.

He came through the door so noisily that his mate looked up in alarm, before soothing poor Scaden who had started to cry at his father's noisy entrance.

“Dean? What is....?”

To his surprise the alpha ignored him, concentrating on locking the door and then positioning himself between it and his mate. The omega could scent his panic. Something was very wrong.

“Dean?”

The alpha looked terrible. He took a deep breath before speaking.

“A short time ago, Morton and some of their friends burst into the queen's chamber at Holyrood just up the road saying they had come 'for Rizzio'”, he said still breathing heavily. “The fellow tried to hide behind his mistress but not only did they drag him away, one of them even pointed a weapon of some sort – a sword or a gun; the fellow I met was not sure - at her! And Darnley actually let them all in!”

Castiel gasped. No wonder his mate had gone all defensive; any alpha would respond to such a threat like that.”

“They stabbed him over fifty times according to one of the servants I ran into who was fleeing the scene”, Dean said grimly. “Then they threw his body down the stairs before they fled. The poor fellow is still there now no doubt – and his killers left one dagger still in his body. Darnley's!”

“And the attackers?” Castiel asked. “What of them?”

“Morton and his cronies are fled to England”, Dean said. “Darnley has gone to his father's house near Glasgow. I would wager that the royal marriage might just be in trouble after all.”

'Trouble' was a mild word for it, Castiel thought, soothing Scaden as his alpha still maintained a defensive pose between them and the door. Now what?

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XII March**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Is there any more news?” Castiel asked as Dean came in from the cold corridor outside. He noted that the alpha still locked the door behind him but did not comment on the fact. His mate was still on edge after the attack; he had made the omega promise not to go out for the next few days.

“Plenty!” Dean said grimly. “And you are not going to like it either way.”

“The Queen has taken action against her husband?” Castiel asked. Dean shook his head.

“That is one strange thing”, he said. “She has not. The other is that her exiled half-brother has returned to Scotland – yes, that quickly - and has been welcomed back into the fold.

Foolish woman, Castiel thought bitterly. Could she not see that Moray would have had to have started from England _before_ the killing which surely meant that he had to have known about it? And the queen could not actually forgive her murderous husband.

_Could she?_

“There is worse”, Dean said. “The queen has given instructions that Rizzio is to be interred in the royal vaults.”

Castiel gasped. The gossip-mongers in Edinburgh would have a field-day over that, he knew.

“She will have her revenge”, Dean said firmly. “I spoke with one of her servants and she was sworn that the killers of 'her poor Davie' will pay for it. And we both know that she will include her husband in that.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XI April**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

Loath though he was to admit it, William Cecil felt compelled to admit (to himself, in private) that the Queen's decision to allow that nincompoop Darnley to go back to Scotland had been a master-stroke. If the Scottish queen could be safely delivered of a healthy son and then removed from power, the boy could be raised as a Protestant and, one day, maybe unite the two British realms. He was a little sorry about that Italian secretary, but one could not make an omelette without breaking eggs.

“My dear cousin Philip writes to me about English ships supplying Dutch rebels in the Netherlands (2)”, the Queen said. “He is most annoyed.”

“You can assure him that no English ships are involved”, Cecil said firmly.

She just looked at him. He shuffled his feet nervously.

“There may be the odd English _captain_ sailing under another flag”, he admitted. 

The look continued.

“With English sailors”, he said. “On a ship built in England. And possibly paid for by sources which might be English if they could be traced.”

“Provided they know I can do nothing for them if they are captured, then that is acceptable”, the Queen sighed. “I see my Scottish cousin has ignored her half-brother's sage advice and decided to inter her secretary with her ancestors. One can only speculate as to what her people think about such a move.”

“It has caused a renewal of speculation that the child she is bearing might be of southern rather than northern European parentage”, Cecil said carefully.

“And the 'long lad'?”

“Still hiding out with his father”, Cecil said shortly. “If he is wise he will keep his distance. But I doubt that he is wise – and as poor 'Seigneur Davie' found out, the price of foolishness in power is all too often a high one.”

“As so many of my father's wives, including my mother, found out too!” Elizabeth remarked grimly.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) James Douglas (b. 1516), a member of a prominent Borderer family but no close relation to Lady Margaret Douglas. Regent of Scotland from 1573 he met a bad end, being beheaded by a prototype guillotine eight years later – an invention that he had brought into Scotland!  
2) Spain then ruled the Spanish Netherlands (modern Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg), but the Protestant northern provinces were starting to rebel against him. It was the beginning of what would, accurately for once, be termed the Eighty Years War. 


	22. The Next Generation (1566)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all about babies as Scotland gets a future heir, Dean gets to do his duty, Queen Elizabeth gets to be a godmother, and Lord Charles Novak gets to prove (again) that his judgement is impeccable. Someone gets shut up in the Tower of London and Samuel Winchester has a 'sharing moment' that his elder brother does not really appreciate.

**MDLXVI**   
**XII June**   
**The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Let it be said that Dean Winchester was not at all anxious that his omega was counting down the hours until he could take a further dose of Mistress MacLeod's potion and they could.... you know.

He glared down apologetically at Little Dean.

“Sorry”, he muttered. “But you know what he's like.”

“Oh Deeeean?”

And that gravelled growl had Little Dean rising to attention like a soldier on parade, dammit! Uttering a prayer to the gods to be merciful (and a second one of thanks to Mistress MacLeod for her aftercare unguent which he had had the foresight to lay in copious quantities of), the alpha trudged off to do his duty.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XVIII June**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Lord Charles Novak felt that it was morally questionable that his good lady wife should be running a book on when what was left of their son-in-law emerged from his latest session. And he would have put his foot down on the matter but for two things; first she had given him three to one on his chosen time and date and second, he was afraid of her. 

The Scotsman was used to the comings and goings of his sometimes (often) erratic family but even he raised an eyebrow when a muddy and soaking Raphael squelched into the house and trudged to his room in stony silence. His wife followed smiling slightly.

“What was it this time?” the nobleman sighed.

“He decided that he identified as a Spanish galleon”, she said. “Balthazar and Gabriel threw him into the Firth before I could do anything.”

Like you tried he thought but wisely did not say. She had a habit of demanding family readings of her latest writings when upset and he did not feel up to that just now. That last one with the manservants and the loofah... ugh!

She placed a pouch of coin on his table and went to her own chair. He looked at her in surprise.

“You were right”, she said. “What is left of our son-in-law just emerged, tears in his eyes. Dear Samandriel said that he was moaning in agony at every step.”

“Too much information, dear heart!” the nobleman said gently, collecting his winnings.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIX June**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean limped slowly into their main room and was relieved to find that there was already a cushion in place on his chair. It had been a trying visit to his in-laws, not helped by the fact that they and everyone clearly knew what had happened to him and no-one seemed inclined to hold back the smirking.

His eyes widened in terror as his mate growled possessively but fortunately Castiel was more interested in the food he had brought than... That, at least for now. The alpha lowered himself carefully onto the cushion, unable to suppress a little sigh of happiness once he was down.

“I have some interesting news for you”, he told his mate. “The queen has been safely delivered of a son this fair morn, and Mistress MacLeod says the boy is healthy. She plans to call him James, after her father.”

Castiel was too busy devouring the bacon sandwiches that his mate had brought him to answer for a while.

“These make me very happy”, he said at last. “Hardly a wise choice of name given the disasters that have befallen the first five monarchs of that name. I had expected her to honour the father and go for the English name Henry.”

“If he is the father”, Dean said. 

“That is idle gossip”, Castiel said reprovingly.

“So it may be”, Dean agreed, “but it is what is being said around the streets of Edinburgh. That and the queen's unwise decision to inter her late secretary amongst her ancestors – she is fast losing support.”

“Oh Deeeean?”

The alpha did not tremble. It was just cold in the room. For June.

“Yes, Cas?”

“I would really like.....”

The omega smiled to himself. His alpha was actually praying!

“More bacon sandwiches.”

The sight of relief was palpable.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXX July**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

Queen Elizabeth frowned.

“It would be a wise move Your Majesty”, Cecil said carefully, having already checked that there was nothing to hand for his mistress to throw at him this time. “One never knows how things are going to work out and for you to be godmother to a future King of Scots....

“That would boost your hopes of his ruling England one day?” the Queen said archly.

Cecil smiled but did not deny it.

“We are still hosting several of the late Rizzio's attackers”, he pointed out. “A conciliatory gesture on your part in agreeing to be godmother to the infant would be useful especially as the King of France has been approached to be a godfather.”

The Queen shuddered.

“I suppose you are right”, she said reluctantly. “And the 'King of Scots'?”

Cecil smiled at the title.

“He is extending his visit to his father Lord Matthew”, he said. “Who, apparently, has ongoing health problems.”

“Good to see that he and Lord Matthew are spending so much time together”, the Queen smiled sourly. “You have ensured that Lady Margaret is well-treated in the Tower?”

“And that her husband is not aware of that fact”, Cecil nodded. “He is of the opinion that you are still enraged at the marriage and his perfidy in securing it, and are wreaking your revenge on his poor wife.”

“So let him think”, the Queen smiled.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIV September**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“A letter from Sammy!” Dean smiled. “He so rarely writes. Mother must have made him.”

“So cynical, alpha”, Castiel smiled. They were both in a good mood because Mistress MacLeod had confirmed that the omega was expecting their second child for next spring. Castiel definitely wanted it to be a surprise this time but she had confirmed that it would be healthy. It warmed the omega's heart that Dean, untypically for an alpha, had said he did not mind what the child was.

All right Castiel had caught him sniffing – manfully, of course – when he saw their young alpha baby in his omega's arms. It must have been all the dust in the room.

_'”Dear Dean,_

_I am writing to you because both Mother and Luke say that I must.'”_

The alpha visibly smirked. Castiel rolled his eyes.

_'”They are both well, and Luke will formally propose to me next year when I am twenty-one. It seems an inordinately long wait, but I suppose that I must be patient.'”_

_”'I hope that both you and Castiel are well and that he is not tiring you out too much. You older men do not have the stamina of us younger ones.'”_

Castiel hid his smile behind his book, especially at the indignant harrumph from his mate.

_'”There is little happening at court just now. The only excitement came over the news that the Spaniards have established a new kingdom far away in the east, near the fabled Spice Islands. It is to be called the Philippines – clearly King Philip's modesty has not been affected by his poor health as of late – and perhaps we shall soon see even more treasure ships heading back to Iberia laden with riches. Doubtless our English privateers are rubbing their hands with glee at the prospect!'”_

_”'Relations with the Spaniards are poor just now, which pleases Lord Cecil as it means the negotiations for the Queen's marriage to Archduke Charles (1) are going nowhere. Not that I believe she will ever marry, but it makes the Secretary fret so. '”_

_”'Our half-brother Adam came round the other day and is doing well for himself.'”_

_”'Finally and because you know how much I love to share, I came home unexpectedly the other day and caught Luke just getting out of the bath. If that sort of thing runs in the family then I hope you never go to bat instead of bowl when you and Castiel do what you do. Just think – a year from now I will be impaled on the end of that monster.....'”_

“Dean?” Castiel asked anxiously. “What is wrong? Why are you shaking?”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXVII December**  
 **Stirling Castle, Stirling (Scotland)**

“It was very good of the queen to have the christening here, do you not think?” Dean ventured.

His mate squinted up at him from his chair. He was feeling particularly bloated just now and his symptoms had been much the same as during his last pregnancy. He strongly suspected that he was carrying another alpha. And worse, he had been unable to run away when his mother had brought over her latest story, 'The Heavily-Hung Highlander', about a clansman who would die unless he had sex every hour for a week!

“It was”, he said carefully.

“Which meant that her husband could make a short journey from his father's bedside”, Dean went on. “The poor earl seems to have been ill for a _dreadfully_ long time.”

Castiel looked sharply at him.

“And the king does not look the _least_ bit uncomfortable”, Dean grinned staring at where Lord Darnley was trying to keep as much distance between himself and his wife as possible. “Perhaps he would prefer to wait outside until the whole thing is over and done with?”

“The Queen has publicly forgiven her errant husband for being led astray by those evil young lords”, Castiel said firmly. “Hopefully they will soon be back together again and have more sons to secure the succession.”

“I am sure that they will”, Dean agreed.

“Good.”

“And I am sure those pigs should not be flying past the castle just now!”

Castiel glared at him.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) The third son of Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand I. A devout Catholic, his role in attacking Protestants across the Empire was what eventually ended any ideas of his marrying Elizabeth. Oddly he had also at one time been a suitor for Mary Queen of Scots. 


	23. Kaboom! (1567)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary Stuart's marriage goes up in flames, along with Kirk O' Field House where her husband had been staying. He is found strangled outside said abode whence she had just taken and left him (ahem!). The Scottish queen duly handles matters in the worst possible way to the surprise of just about no-one. On a happier note Dean becomes a father for a second time and discovers a coven that he is not allowed to call a coven, or his omega will... well he will!

**MDLXVII**   
**XII January**   
**The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Do you believe it?” Dean asked.

Castiel winced but shook his head.

“It seems strange”, he admitted. “The Queen's husband murders her secretary right in front of her, one of his associates holds a weapon to her pregnant belly - and barely six months later she is all smiles and forgiveness.”

“Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly”, Dean grinned.

“She has not even instituted any moves for an annulment”, Castiel said thoughtfully. “And the way is open to her; the Papacy would dearly love to see Scotland return to the True Faith and would easily raise a fuss that sanction for the union was not granted so it is thereby invalid.”

“If she paid them enough”, Dean said. “I am certain that she is plotting something. Look how she has moved against almost every man who was in her room that fateful day – every man except the one that she is currently lauding to the skies as a faithful but foolish husband.”

“Foolish indeed, if he leaves the safety of his father's house just now”, Castiel said. “My own father says that he has the pox.”

“Great or small?” Dean wondered.

“Hopefully for him the latter”, Castiel said shortly, “otherwise the Queen would have every reason to throw him over.”

“Cecil says that when she was ill last month, she wrote to Elizabeth asking her to raise her son in England if the worst happened”, Dean said. “It is a cruel thing to say but possibly the best solution would have been if she had died.”

“I wonder if the lords would have worn that?” Castiel mused. “And then there is that braggart James Bothwell. He seems far too close to the Queen, in my opinion.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**X February**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“I definitely do not like Lord Bothwell.”

Dean looked at his mate in surprise. Castiel had been unable to sleep being only three weeks from his due date, so they were just sat together talking quietly in the semi-darkness.

“Why not?” he asked. “What has the rat done? He has not approached you, has he?”

The possessive growl that came with that question made the omega smile to himself in the semi-darkness.

“He seems far too close to the Queen as of late”, he said. “Has she returned to Kirk o' Field (1) yet?”

Dean shook his head.

“She did her obligatory dance as promised”, he said, “then decided to stay in Holyrood instead. Although I think Bothwell escorting her to the wedding was unwise.”

Castiel frowned.

“Why would she do that?” he wondered. “She brings her sick husband all the way from Glasgow to just a mile away, then abandons him? Come to that, her only remembering a wedding at this time of night also seems strange. It is all a bit....”

What he had been going to say would never be known for at that moment there was a loud explosion from nearby. Both men looked up, alarmed.

“I shall have to go and see what that was”, Dean said, rising and quickly pulling on his clothes. “Promise me that you will lock the door after me?”

“I promise”, Castiel said firmly. “And keep safe, beloved.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

“Well?” the omega asked anxiously. His mate had been gone for some considerable time and he had spent a while just scenting him directly after he had come through the door. The worry coming off the alpha had been palpable.

Dean sighed.

“Darnley is dead”, he said softly. “Murdered!”

Castiel pulled back in horror.

“How?” he demanded.

“That explosion was Kirk o' Field going up in smoke”, Dean said. “Gunpowder, presumably (2). There is little left of it except ruins, now.”

“He was killed in the explosion?” Castiel demanded. Dean hesitated.

“I spoke with one of the servants”, he said. “Before she left, the queen remarked that Paris – _Lord Bothwell's man_ – was 'begrimed'. As if he had been working with gunpowder. And it is worse even than that. The bodies of Darnley and his manservant were both found some distance from the house – strangled!”

Castiel gulped. This was bad. So very, very bad.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIX February**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

_'My lord Cecil,_

_I hope this missive reaches you as speedily as my first one, written immediately after the dark events of last Sunday week. The Scottish queen has declared forty days of mourning for her lost husband and sworn to catch his killers. I am sure that a gentleman of your great wisdom can appreciate that many here think she will not have far to look – especially given the Development that has prompted this letter._

_Lord Bothwell's wife, Lady Jean, has been seriously ill as of late, and has only just recovered. Her brother Huntly (3), whom we all know to be Bothwell's man, has pressured her into initiating divorce proceedings on the grounds of his infidelity. As they are both Protestants this looks certain to succeed, which will mean that he will be a free agent at about the same time that the Scottish queen finishes her mourning. An interesting coincidence, I am sure that you would agree._

Coincidence my foot, Cecil thought archly. Yes, he had known of the plan to murder the 'long lad' but seriously, how had the barons made such a complete mess of such a simple job?

_They executed the poor soldier (4) who found the two bodies today. I suppose that this was an attempt to divert suspicion away from Lord Bothwell, but it has signally failed. It is being rumoured around Edinburgh that the plot was primarily his doing – the story about his servant's gunpowder-covered face is now common currency - and that he only told the queen once the gunpowder was in place, which was why she made the strange decision not to return to Kirk o' Field. She has ordered the ruins of the place to be flattened, as if that will somehow stop people talking. It will certainly remove any incriminating evidence._

_My father-in-law is of the opinion (as are many others) that the queen will be married to Bothwell before summer. If she does it will be the worst – and possibly last – mistake that she will ever make._

_Dean'._

“It will indeed”, Cecil muttered to himself as he folded the letter back up. “And when she is deposed we shall have Scotland under a Protestant regency, with a future king raised in the True Faith. And all because the lady married for love.”

He paused, then frowned.

“But the Queen will gloat to high Heaven for weeks. Ah well.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**I March**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean winced as he rubbed the unguent that Mistress MacLeod had given him on his aching hand. She had assured him that it was not broken but it hurt quite a bit after Castiel had grabbed onto it for so long. At least the alpha had not fainted this time.

Not for _that_ long.

The pointed cough from a certain mate suggested that, just possibly, he might have other more pressing concerns if he wished to retain his current anatomical layout. Dean smiled at his mate who was holding their second son – another alpha! - and giving him a look that said there would be a Talk in someone's near future. The alpha shuddered for some unknown reason.

“Your choice of name this time”, he said quickly.

The knowing look he got in return suggested quite clearly that someone knew full well that he was trying to deflect attention away from himself and was failing miserably. Still, how bad could it be?

“Actually I let my mother choose a name”, Castiel said blithely.

Dean Winchester was not really that religious but he was suddenly into praying in a big way.

“What...” he began in far too high-pitched a voice before recovering himself. “Uh, what did she choose?”

“Jensen.”

That was... actually not too bad.

“It sounds Scandinavian”, Dean said.

“From a story she wrote about two brothers who hunted supernatural creatures”, Castiel explained. “The other one was called Jared.”

Dean reflected that 'Jensen' was not so bad after all. Then he remembered something.

“Was that the one where they were.... you know.”

“Yes, 'together together' as she put it”, Castiel said. “And we are still having that Talk later.”

Dean shuddered. This room was far too cold.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XII April**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

The christening had been awful, Dean thought. Not so much for Jensen – his beautiful alpha had slept through almost the whole thing. No, Castiel's mother had arrived – with her Writing Circle! A whole party of women – some mean omega would not allow him to use the word 'coven' – all of whom wrote bad stories. Which they wanted to share with him!

Dean must have done something very bad in a previous life to merit this.

Castiel's father had been briefly called away by a servant some way through the service and had returned looking grim-faced.

“It is as expected”, he told them both afterwards. “Lord Matthew has persuaded the Privy Council to initiate proceedings against Lord Bothwell for the murder of his son, the late king.”

“And the queen?” Dean asked.

“Taken with a sudden illness”, Lord Charles said. “She has however refused Lord Matthew's request for a delay so that eh can have more time to gather evidence.”

“'Justice'”, Dean muttered. 

Castiel glared at him but he had his arms full of Jensen, so could not swat the alpha. Although the look on his face bode ill for later.

“She cannot marry Bothwell”, the omega said firmly. “It would be political suicide!”

“I agree”, his father said, “but she has married for love once already and then repented at leisure. She may well be inclined to repeat the mistake.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIX April**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean came in far too silently that cold spring day. Castiel was immediately worried.

“What is it?” he asked. “More reaction to the earl's acquittal?”

“He may have intimidated the Council and scared off Lord Matthew by marching into court with all his allies and kinsmen”, Dean said, “but it would be a Labour of Hercules for him to stop the mouths of the gossips. Especially now.”

“What has happened?” the omega asked.

“The queen was travelling to Linlithgow Palace when she ran into Bothwell and a large group of his men”, Dean said heavily. “He told her that she needed to be taken 'to a place of safety' and has removed her to his castle at Dunbar, east along the coast.”

“That is most improper”, Castiel frowned. “But he is still married so he cannot try anything.”

“That is the other thing”, the alpha said. “The court hearing Lady Jean's divorce plea has been scheduled to meet in two weeks' time and there is every indication that she will get what she wants. The earl will be a free man – and he will have the queen ready to say yes the moment he gets the ruling.”

Castiel really wanted to insist that his mistress would not be that foolish. But he had his doubts.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) A private house just outside the city walls, used by the Queen when she wanted a change, or sometimes when there was plague in the city. Its exact site is unknown, but it lay somewhere around the Old College and therefore close to Castiel's and Dean's apartments.  
2) This was why the second and more famous Gunpowder Plot (1605) was so terrifying for James after he became King of England.  
3) George Gordon, Earl of Huntly (b. 1535), son of his namesake and predecessor disinherited after his rebellion in 1562. He was with Bothwell and the Queen at Kirk o' Field shortly before the explosion.   
4) William Blackadder. Remember that name. 


	24. Blackadder Goes Aft (1567)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marry in haste and repent in more haste, as a certain Scots queen discovers to her cost when Blackadder goes aft rather than forth and wreaks a timely revenge on her. Dean gets a letter from Lucifer Novak which leaves him traumatized, and practices the laying on of hands. Someone proves themselves fatally gullible, and Castiel is concerned over the new Duke of Orkney.

**MDLXVII**   
**III May January**   
**The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Well colour me surprised!” Dean exclaimed in what was obviously fake astonishment. “Lady Bothwell has been granted her divorce from her husband on the grounds that he had seduced one of their servants.”

“I still think the Queen will not be so foolish as to actually marry him”, Castiel said stoutly.

“She is still with him at Dunbar”, Dean pointed out. “She does not exactly seem to be pleading for someone to come to her rescue, does she?”

“Several of the barons have said that they would not be unopposed to his marrying her”, Castiel pointed out.

“Only because they can see the path to enriching themselves in the process”, Dean said. “There are many more who are sure that he was behind her husband's murder, especially given the way she allowed Bothwell to twist the judicial process. She would be just asking for trouble – although I dare say she is in enough trouble already given the amount of time she has spent under his protection. More likely just under him!”

“You do not think that the lords would rebel again?” Castiel asked doubtfully. The alpha shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, when she does the inevitable and marries the dolt, we shall find out”, he said. He sniffed the air carefully before sighing and rising to his feet. “One of our sons needs attending to. I shall go.”

Castiel smiled at him. Alphas were good for some things, apart from the obvious.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**IX May**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_'To my fellow alpha and soon to be brother-in-law,_

_I may call you that now as I have formally proposed to your brother Samuel and we have... well, I am sure you do not require details save to say that I am eternally in your debt for the unguent that you included with your last letter. I never thought as an alpha I could be so sore Down There, but those old wives' tales about the first time being the hardest - so very, very true. Even with a kilt I still cannot sit down without wincing._

_The English court is tense just now as we await developments from my homeland, and as to what fool thing Mary Stuart will do next. I really would wish to believe that she could not be so unwise as to marry a wastrel like Bothwell, but her actions thus far – and her inactions for that matter, in failing to pursue her husband's murderers and then staying with the chief suspect – they do not fill me with hope. It will not surprise you to learn that those down here who were saying that Queen Elizabeth should marry have gone very quiet just now._

_You might ask your Mistress MacLeod if she has anything that could be used to reassure your brother and he has long fretted over his highly irregular and variable heats. Not that I wish to encourage them more than is necessary – at least not without buying some looser clothing first! - but his welfare comes before all for me._

_I cannot believe that my idiot brother Balthazar chose this particular moment to enter Lord Bothwell's service as a manservant. I had hoped that this was part of a scheme by our father to keep tabs on him but apparently the young dolt did it totally off his own back, 'to show what he is made of'. Clearly not much in the way of brains but then we all knew that. At least Raphael – or Boadicea as he was last time I heard – will be pleased._

_I hope that you, my brother and my nephews are well, and once I can stand up without hurting I will take this letter to be posted._

_Luke'._

_Postscriptum: Or perhaps tomorrow. Someone_ wants _again!_

Castiel smiled as he read the letter then left it for where his mate would find it later. He could just imagine Dean's reaction.

+~+~+

His alpha was still shuddering when he came to bed that night.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XII May**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Mother is furious”, Castiel told Dean that evening. “She is so upset with Balthazar that she claims it has quite put her off her writings.”

“And the downside of that is?” Dean asked, making sure he was out of swatting distance before he answered. 

He still got an offended pout which was almost as bad.

“Well, I have some news that you are not going to like”, the alpha said, sitting down and leaning across to take Jensen from his mate. “It concerns the new Duke of Orkney.”

“Who is that?” Castiel asked.

“One James Hepburn, Esquire”, his mate answered. 

The omega went pale.

“Bothwell?” he managed. Dean nodded.

“And if _that_ is not a precursor to her marrying the man”, he said, “then I do not know what is!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XV May**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Castiel and Dean were visiting the Novaks with their two sons when the news came through. A servant came in with a note for Lord Charles who visibly paled when reading it.

“Bad news, Father?” Castiel asked.

“The worst”, his father said glumly. “She has married him.”

He did not need to say any more. Everyone knew who he meant.

“She 'claims' that he forced himself upon her in Dunbar”, Lord Charles said slowly. “She is, she says, making a virtue out of necessity by marrying him.”

Dean opened his mouth to express his skepticism at that, but caught his mate's warning look and wisely stopped.

“Poor, foolish woman”, Lady Novak sighed. “This will be the end of her.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXI May**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Castiel knew his mate well. So even though there seemed nothing unusual about Dean's return to the house that day he sensed immediately that something was up.

“What is it?” he asked concernedly. 

“What?” Dean asked, pointedly not looking at his mate. Castiel's concerns increased.

“You have that guilty look about you”, he said carefully. “Have you been eating too much pie again?”

“Not a problem”, Dean grinned. “You always help me work it off!”

The omega just looked at him. Dean sighed.

“It is creepy when you do that”, he grumbled. “All right. I sort of ran into your brother Gabriel when I was out.”

The look continued. 

“And he made some stupid remark about how I was wearing you out what with your recent illness.”

Castiel waited.

“And I may have sort of made it clear that I didn't really appreciate his comments”, Dean muttered.

“Clear as in around the neck?” Castiel asked dryly. Dean blushed.

“Sort of.”

The omega shook his head at the alpha.

“You are so bad”, he said reprovingly. “I am going to have to find some way to.... punish you, alpha.”

He would have to offer up some extra prayers for the gratification he felt at the alpha's suddenly rapid breathing. 

Better make that a lot of prayers. And an extra donation to the plate.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XI June**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“The hypocrisy of it stinks”, Lord Charles said shortly, “but then one does not become – or remain – a baron by fair dealing.”

“They have nearly all deserted her”, Dean agreed. “Even those who signed that bond approving of the marriage, not two months since. Although the fact she was seen playing golf (1) just days after her husband was slain – it did not look well.”

“It is what they call the domino effect”, his father-in-law remarked. “One of them breaks ranks for whatever reason and others feel compelled to follow 'to be on the winning side'.”

“The queen and her new husband will be marching in from Dunbar soon enough”, Dean said. “It will be a close-run thing; I think she can still raise a force to at least match those arrayed against her especially as her new husband has been summoning his men from his various lands.”

“Doubtless your _mistress down in England_ is hoping for a rebel victory”, Castiel said caustically, “so that Prince James can be raised as a good Protestant and possibly one day succeed to both thrones?”

“Doubtless she is”, Dean agreed. “But as a well-trained alpha I do everything that my _master here in Scotland_ tells me.”

Castiel blushed.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XV June**  
 **Carberry Hill, Musselburgh (Scotland)**

“This is not what I expected.”

Castiel could not but agree with his mate. The rebels had taken up a position east of the city, clearly confident in its support and blocking the Queen's way to it. She and her new husband had arrived from Dunbar with an army that by Dean's assessment was similar in size and strength to that of the rebel barons, but not strong enough to storm a solid defensive position.

“Bothwell – the king, I suppose I should call him – did agree to single combat to sort the whole thing out”, he said. “But they were unable to agree terms.”

“Convenient”, Dean muttered.

His father-in-law approached them.

“An interesting development”, he said. “Lord Edmund Blackadder (2) has withdrawn from the Queen's side, claiming that as her husband is not going to fight today he is no longer needed.”

Both men looked at him incredulously.

“More likely revenge”, Castiel said sagely. “Remember, it was his brother who found Darnley's body an reported on the strangulation marks and was then executed as a scapegoat to try to clear the Queen's name.”

“An effective revenge indeed”, Dean said, as a servant hurried up to his father-in-law with a note. “The Queen is being led out in front of her army.... is she actually going towards the rebels?”

“She is”, Lord Charles said heavily. “She has apparently received, and I quote, 'guarantees of safety' from them.”

There was a stony silence.

“No, I do not believe them either”, Lord Charles said. “What now?”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Any historical leader who indulged in too much golf at inappropriate times could expect the full opprobrium of commentators in general (except in one country between 2009 and 2017 for some reason).  
2) Possibly one inspiration for the famous TV series. There is a Clan Blackadder whose capital is at Tulliualan Castle, Fifeshire. 


	25. Family Matters (1567)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is expected not to use a certain word and he and Castiel try for a third child, after which a certain alpha is inherently glad for certain medicinal supplies obtainable from Mistress MacLeod at The Wall Mart chemist's shop (now open six days a week; emergency Sunday unguents available at Broomstick Cottage, Cauldron Square). The situation in France turns grim, and in Scotland the Queen abdicates in favour of her infant son.

**MDLXVII**   
**XXIV July**   
**The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean was worried. Castiel had been ill again, and although he had said it was nothing more than a mild cough, the alpha had fretted anyway.

“It is to be expected”, his mother-in-law had told him airily. “Delivering two alphas, even a year apart, unsettles both women and omegas. I had to deliver Michael and Lucifer one after the other and it quite put me off.... you know what. For at least a week!”

Dean should have thanked her for the advice but he had been too busy trying not to think about.... ugh! Fortunately she had been backed up by Mistress MacLeod who had said that Castiel should be back to normal in another month or so.

Little Dean had trembled at that prospect.

“She has caved”, Dean told his mate that evening.

“Hardly surprising”, Castiel said. They were sat together on the couch in a way that was not resembling that thing called cuddling at all. “The implied threat was that her son could easily be disinherited for someone else. Possibly the late Darnley's younger brother Charles, or even Moray.”

“I am surprised that her half-brother has not shown his face yet”, Castiel admitted. “I know he has been in France for some reason but news of the goings-on must surely have reached him by now.”

Dean knew that in his last letter Cecil had said that he was working to have Moray back to Scotland as soon as possible, but said nothing.

“The Scots would not put a bastard on their throne”, he said.

“Technically your queen fits that description”, Castiel pointed out.

“There are some who doubt Mary's rights as well”, Dean countered. “Her late father had some sort of mental breakdown in his last year or so and the arrival of a daughter surprised many. And some still question the paternity of the new King James VI. I suppose it is less the blood within and more the support without. The boy-king is lucky that those opposing him are divided between his mother's supporters and those backing other candidates.”

“True”, Castiel agreed, “but doubtless Moray will return backed by much English money. And it may not be able to buy you love but it can hire you support for quite some time!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIX July**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

The men had taken their sons to visit Lord Charles and Lady Rebecca.

“I am surprised that your presence was not requested at Stirling for the coronation”, Dean observed.

“Never express any opinion when you do not have to”, his father-in-law said sagely. “Now that they have appointed the absent Moray as regent my presence would be seen as supporting him. I did hear that the great spectacle was sparsely attended; many lords stayed away for one reason or another so my humble presence would not have been missed.”

“You do not support him?” Castiel asked, surprised.

“I wish him well”, his father said cautiously, “but Scottish politics is a dangerous business. I do not doubt that there will be many moves against this and future regents and my duty is to Scotland rather than to any man.”

“To your wife first, dear heart”, Lady Novak called from where she was changing Jensen's nappy across the room.

“But of course”, her husband said quickly.

Dean would have remarked just how whipped a certain person was had he not caught a certain omega looking sharply at him. He gulped.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIII August**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_'Dear Dean,_

_I hope you are well, or at least not too tired. By the time you receive this letter our efforts to get Moray back to Scotland should have born fruit and he will be settling in to his new post, even if it is not the one he really craves. At least the barons in charge during his absence have proved themselves wise; imprisoning the former queen in a castle on an island in a loch was a sensible security measure. I am sorry that she miscarried of her most recent husband's offspring but at least her surrender enabled Bothwell to flee the country. Despite her actions – which many down here still find hard to believe – I do not doubt that she still has much support, especially in the Catholic Highlands. Well, we shall see._

_The news here is concerning as relations with mighty Spain continue to worsen. Poor management of their Dutch subjects has led to what promises to be a major rebellion against their rule and King Philip has dispatched Fernando, Duke of Alva, to sort matters out. The latter is highly able, unfortunately, so he may well succeed. The Queen will of course aid the rebels as much as she can and deny most strenuously so doing._

_An amusing aside to this is that the Spanish actually managed to catch up with one of our pir... privateers the other week and a small boarding party forced its way onto_ The Proper Charlie _. Yes_ that _ship, the one with the all female crew run by Mistress Charlotta Bradbury, possibly one of the few Englishwomen who is feared abroad as much as our dear Queen if for rather more 'direct' reasons. Thankfully I was not provided with the exact details of what happened next save to say that most fortunately, the captain leading the boarding party already had two children.'_

Dean winced.

_'I see from your last letter that one of your brothers-in-law has elected to follow his new master Bothwell into exile. I have some news of your brief ex-king which may not have yet reached you. He was, it seemed, set on reaching Denmark and then seeking to raise an army to put his wife back onto her throne. Unhappily for him, he was captured and taken to Bergen of all places where his first wife Mistress Throndsen (1) lives. She found out and raised a complaint against him, and King Frederick has now decided to hold him in jail as a political pawn; we all know that he has long craved the return of the Orkney and Shetland Isles (2). The Queen has protested this publicly as she feels he should be returned to Scotland to stand trial, but privately she is delighted. Your brother-in-law – did his parents really name him after a Biblical ruler? - is therefore stuck over there although from what you write about him, I am sure this is not too great a loss._

_I shall write again when I have news of import._

_Cecil'._

The alpha had just finished reading the letter when he became aware that he was no longer alone.

“Oh Deeeean?”

Uttering yet another apology to certain body parts the alpha trudged away to do his duty. He liked sex as much as any alpha but five times in one morning.... there were limits to even his stamina!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXI August**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_'Dearest son,_

_Just a few lines from your mother to let you know that all is well in England, or at least here in London Town. I do not think I have ever seen your brother so happy; he walks around in a daze half the time and the sappy way that his mate looks at him – if that is not true love then I do not know what is._

_So good to hear that you and your own mate are going to try for a third child. I hope your apartments are set some way apart from anyone else's; your brother has yet to learn that certain noises travel! Fortunately I have taken to sleeping with earplugs, which shut out most of the moaning and screaming. From both of them.'_

Dean winced.

_'I know you will find it hard to believe but Mr. Singer, the royal steward, is actually going to marry. The lucky bride is our friend Mrs. Harvelle; apparently he got drunk on a recent trip to the Road House and blurted out how ardently and passionately he admired her. In front of just about everyone! It was two weeks ago and I think that he has just about stopped blushing by now._

_The only news I have to tell you as such is that John Hawkins has set off on another voyage to the Americas. His last journey yielded a massive _sixty per cent_ profit so we have high hopes (as, no doubt, do both the Queen and her wallet!). Lord Cecil has been monitoring things and he mentioned the other day that we might keep an eye on Hawkins' cousin who is going with him once more. I must say that this Francis Drake does not look up to much but I suppose that appearances can be deceiving._

_The love-birds are back so I shall conclude this letter in order to get my earplugs in._

_Loving you as ever,_

_Your Mother'._

Castiel handed his alpha a handkerchief.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**III October**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Lord Charles frowned at the letters he had been reading.

“Is something wrong?” Dean asked. He and Castiel had brought their sons over so that their parents' parents; Lady Rebecca had threatened him with a toasting-fork if he ever used the g-word in her presence. Scaden in particular was growing into a fine young alpha, the image of his proud father.

Lord Charles sighed.

“It looks as if the terrible French Wars of Religion will be starting up again”, he said. “The Prince of Condé (3) has tried and failed to capture his cousin the king at Meaux but the attempt has caused many towns to declare for the Huguenots. The blood will soon be flowing again.”

“Your queen was wise to sell out her claim to Calais after all”, Castiel observed from where he was feeding Jensen. “Not that she could have enforced it. Doubtless she is helping the Protestants over there.”

“And equally doubtless many Catholics in England will go to support the other side, plus they will receive aid from Catholic Europe”, Dean countered. 

Castiel looked down at his second son.

“One can but hope that by the time Jensen here is old enough to wield an arquebus (4), he will have no need to”, he said fervently.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**VX November**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Either a girl or an omega, Mistress MacLeod had assured Dean when he had seen her earlier that day, and definitely healthy. The good news was that Castiel was expecting their third child and Dean was very happy.

The other news was that Castiel's 'demanding period', which usually began some time after a pregnancy had been confirmed, has started a whole month early. Little Dean _hurt!_

“This news from France is strange”, Castiel observed as his alpha limped into their rooms, looking intensely relieved when his omega had not immediately demanded sex. For several of the past few nights Dean had found himself with a naked omega who needed his attentions almost before he had got the door shut, and whilst this made good use of the kilt and the lack of underwear, he had had to have a lie down afterwards the last two times. And _someone's_ smug look had not been appreciated!

“What news?” Dean asked, glad to make it to the pantry. And even better, there was a slice of pie waiting for him. He silently blessed whoever had made it.

“Mother sent Alfie over with it”, Castiel said. “She thought you might need the energy. Father's note says that the French Catholics have won a great victory near Paris, but apparently the woman leading them was killed.”

Dean frowned before he got it.

“That would be Anne de Montmorency”, he said. “Not a woman; he was named for his mother. And by a father who was apparently accepting that his son would face a lifetime of teasing.”

“Some people are cruel”, Castiel said. “Finish your pie, my love. I shall be... waiting.”

It was dusty in the room. That was why there were tears in Dean's eyes. He ate slowly.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) This marriage was legal under Dano-Norwegian law but questionable under English and Scots law.  
2) The Northern Isles were pledged as security as part pf the dowry for the marriage of the Norwegian princess Margaret to James III King of Scots (Mary Stuart's great-grandfather, ruled 1460-1488), so when the Norwegians failed to come up with the cash the Scots annexed the islands (1471). Subsequent Norwegian kings (and Danish ones after the 1523 union of the two countries) wanted them back and as late as the 1640s King Charles I, Mary's grandson, was prepared to hand the Orkneys over in return for Danish support in the English Civil War.  
3) Louis Prince of Condé (b. 1530), highly able leader of the Huguenots.  
4) Early form of long gun. Firing was by a matchlock system, where the arquebusier (from a German word meaning 'long butt') had to place powder in the chamber, place a length of fuse with one end in the powder and the other hanging out, close the chamber, then use flints to strike a match to light the fuse. And then hope and pray that the damn contraption didn't explode when he fired it! 


	26. Flight, Fight And Flight (1568)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Novak family loses one member but gains another, whilst both Dean and Castiel are careful to keep avoiding the g-word. In a shock development the former Queen of Scots escapes from her island prison and raises an army but is defeated – and then in a not-shock development she turns up in precisely the worst possible place!

**MDLXVIII**   
**IX March**   
**Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Mother took the news quite well”, Castiel observed as they left to go back to their apartments.

“Well, it is not as if Balthazar is exactly dead”, Dean said. “Just several hundred miles away in a Danish prison.”

“I only hope the others have the good sense not to celebrate the 'loss' too publicly”, the omega said, wincing as Dean helped him into the carriage. They would normally have walked but Lady Novak had insisted on sending her carriage for them with Castiel just three months out from giving birth. 

Dean was silent.

“You want to buy a pie to 'mark the occasion', do you not?” Castiel said shrewdly.

“Is that ill of me?” Dean asked guiltily. “You said that he was not good to you when you were growing up, and I for my part never liked him.”

“It would be a bad idea”, Castiel said.

“I suppose so....”

“Especially as I have one at home ready for you.”

The look of gratitude he got from is alpha was almost too much. Which was good because Dean did not yet know what Castiel had planned for him as 'payment' for that pie.

Although judging from that whine and that sudden look of terror, he just had!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**III May**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Castiel's brother Samandriel was helping him sort things out for the forthcoming birth when Dean burst into the room. Both men looked up in surprise; the alpha was normally considerate when it came to not startling his mate especially so near his time. Then Castiel saw the look on his face and knew that it was bad.

“You will not believe it!” Dean exclaimed. “She is out!”

“How?” Samandriel asked. “I thought she was being held prisoner in Loch Leven (1). An island in a loch. How on earth did she escape from there?”

“Used her womanly wiles to win over a servant there”, Dean said, “who had the good sense to wreck every boat except the one she used for her escape. She is already raising an army to restore her to her throne. Several of the barons led by Argyll (2) have gone over to her and declared her abdication to be invalid because it was extracted under duress.”

“Which to be fair it was”, Castiel pointed out.

“She cannot attack Glasgow; it is too strong”, Dean mused. “She must be headed past it for Argyll's lands. If she reaches them then there will be even worse trouble.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIII May**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_'My Lord Cecil,_

_I am sure that you have other sources, but I felt that I should write to you anyway and let you know what has happened. In short; she has lost. The only matter now is that she has eluded capture and we know not whither she has gone. Almost certainly to her former realm of France, her last faint hope of any support and a certain refuge for the rest of her days - if she has the sense to take it._

_Moray played his hand well, avoiding an immediate engagement with the queen's forces on his way to Glasgow because of their superior numbers, and got himself safely into that city whose men he added to his own. He was however still outnumbered (my source says by about three to two) but felt that he had to offer battle as the queen was clearly passing the city to the south and was intent on crossing the Clyde to reach Argyll's lands where she would become even stronger. The encounter took place at a small village called Langside and after a close-fought battle her forces were defeated. To his credit Moray called off any pursuit to spare the lives of his fellow Scotsmen._

_Regrettably Argyll has melted away into his own lands (you will remember that he has long held the great fortress at Dumbarton despite the Regent). I doubt however that he will be able to do much especially with his figurehead out of the country or, if she is caught, in what is hopefully a much closer confinement this time. The only danger I can see is that she might try to slip over to Ireland which poor country has enough travails as it is. We shall soon see._

_I can also tell you that....'_

“Dean?”

“Almost done”, Dean said abstractedly. 

“You are”, his mate replied. “You are about to become a father again. _As of now!”_

Dean would have to rewrite his letter from the start as his pen had just skidded right across it. Not that he cared much.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIV May**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“A daughter!” Lady Novak beamed. “She is so adorable!”

“A few days early as I predicted but very healthy”, Mistress MacLeod smiled. “Have you chosen a name for her?”

Both men hesitated.

“We know you did not wish us to use your Christian name, Mother”, Castiel said carefully. “So we decided to name her in honour of both her.... parents' parents.”

“Good save!” Dean muttered.

“Say hullo to Rosemary Winchester”, Castiel smiled.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XX May**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Where is she?” Lord Charles fretted. “The Regent has ships patrolling the whole south-west coast now, and she cannot be already gone or we would surely have heard something.”

“Maybe the people down there are protecting her, Father?” Castiel suggested. His mother had insisted on going shopping for his daughter whom the omega was currently suckling, and amusingly she had dragged Dean along with her (the alpha's hang-dog face had been hilarious!). Castiel had however promised to make it up to him later. And he had not smirked in the least at the alpha's expression when he had said that, a mixture between terror and anticipation.

He had not smirked _much_. 

His father shook his head.

“She has few supporters down there”, he said, “especially as Bothwell's people feel that she abandoned him to save her own skin. She cannot have reached Argyll's lands either or he would have emerged with her in tow. This is all very vexing.”

“Maybe she has gone to England?” Castiel suggested. 

His father snorted in disbelief.

“Gone to the lands of the woman whose throne she has been claiming this past ten years and whom she has all but openly called a bastard?” he said with a laugh. “Even our wayward daughter could not have been _that_ stupid!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXI May**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“She has gone to England!”

Castiel stared at his mate in disbelief. Dean had dragged himself out of bed after his mate's 'reward' for going shopping with the dreaded mother-in-law, and the alpha looked a wreck. A letter had come for him (Castiel had had to hide his amusement at Dean's trembling hand as he had held it) and the alpha had read it twice before speaking.

“She cannot have”, Castiel said roundly. “Your source must be mistaken.”

“Cecil had sent me a letter and the messenger bringing it had lodged overnight in Carlisle Castle”, Dean told him. “His note is appended. She made it to the port of Workington last Sunday, the sixteenth, and was escorted to Carlisle at once. A wise precaution; the North is still predominantly Catholic and she might expect support there. She then dispatched a letter to Elizabeth expressing her full confidence that 'her dear sister' would support her in her efforts to get her throne back.”

“And to help her to visit the Moon whilst she is at it!” Castiel scoffed. “What _can_ have possessed her? She could have gone into an honourable retirement in France; as a former queen there they would have made sure that she wanted for nothing. Instead she has thrown herself on the mercy of the one woman that she has spent a lifetime crossing.”

“It is not so much Elizabeth she should be afraid of”, Dean said sagely. “We all know how strong my Queen is when it comes to the rights of royalty, although she would not of course go so far as to provide her cousin with any actual help to win back her throne. No, it is the likes of Cecil that she should worry about. He sees her for the menace that she is and he will not rest until she is gone – _one way or another!”_

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXVI May**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_'Dear Dean,_

_As I am sure you must have guessed, the arrival of the Queen's Scottish cousin has caught us all by surprise in London. That she was defeated at Langside was undoubtedly good news and we all hoped most fervently that she would do the sensible thing (yes, for once in her life) and retire to live out her days in France. The French have their failings – I do not unfortunately have the time or the staff to list them all – but like us they do care for their former queens. Instead the dratted woman has come here of all places!_

_I am also sure that you can imagine the Queen's reaction to the first letter that she received from her cousin, which blithely expected 'her dear sister' to provide her with an army so she could win back the throne she had so carelessly lost. Because when one has a powerful rival of a hostile faith in a country, the first thing one does is provide them with a bunch of soldiers armed to the teeth. Mary Stuart is quite mad!_

_Poor Henry Hastings (3) is beside himself that he has a fellow claimant to the English throne on his hands. He has told his unwelcome guest that for her own safety she is to regard herself as being in protective custody, which I suppose is a good cover for house-arrest. I am now looking for somewhere safer to put the dratted woman; as long as she is near the Border there is the chance that some of her few supporters may try to effect a rescue attempt. We shall shortly get a letter from Moray demanding that she be returned to Scotland but the Queen will of course refuse. Women!_

_The horrible little Spanish ambassador, Menendez, has been complaining to the Queen that English ships have been assisting the Dutch rebels in their attempt to break free of Spanish rule. She casually mentioned certain Spanish-funded priests spreading unrest amongst the Catholic population of Ireland which shut him up quite effectively. I do wish that there was some technology to catch people's faces at times; Mistress Bradbury had left her ship to pay a rare visit to court, and the look on the ambassador's face when he saw her – it was like the End Times had come upon him!”_

_Kindly keep me informed of any developments as regards the Scottish Pest's supporters._

_Cecil'._

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XX June**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

_'My lord Cecil,_

_Just a short note to apprise you of recent developments here. The Regent has been busying himself eliminating the former queen's few supporters in the Borders, starting there (I presume) because he thinks that some of them might try to rescue her. He has as you know met with Lord Scrope (4) to discuss matters appurtenant to the woman's captivity and has forced the surrender of several of her supporters at Dumfries. There is still no sign of Argyll and the general mood in the country is that God's judgement on their former ruler was a final one and should be respected. My Catholic in-laws are of course disappointed but Lord Charles works for Scotland before any religious concerns, as everyone knows._

_His son just works me into a state of near-permanent exhaustion!_

_Dean'._

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Loch Leven is in Kinross-shire, and is less than four miles across at its widest. It is thirty miles north of Edinburgh, but because of the Firth of Forth it is over sixty miles round by road through Stirling. The castle today is a protected ruin but can be visited by ferry in summer.  
2) Archibald Campbell (b. 1532). Argyll is a large area west of Glasgow and close to Ireland; it was symbolic to Scots because the original Scotti tribe from Ireland established the kingdom and royal line there that would descend to the Stuarts. The current Duke of Argyll, Torquil Campbell, is a descendant of Archibald's younger brother and successor Colin.  
3) Henry Earl of Huntingdon (b. 1536), a descendant of King Edward III (1327-1377) through several different dynastic lines. His position was further complicated because he had married Katherine Dudley, sister to the Queen's favourite Robert Dudley. Several people had put forward his name as a potential heir when the Queen had had her smallpox attack in 1562, and although he had done nothing himself she had been slow to forgive him.  
4) Henry Scrope, Baron Bolton (b. 1534). Captain of Carlisle Castle but he had been at court in London at the time of Mary's arrival there. 


	27. Go-Go-Go! (1568)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good things do happen, but only Dean could land the chance in a million that would lead to him spending much of the second half the year either with his legs in the air or underneath a rutting omega. A permanently horny, rutting omega who is seemingly trying to kill him through sex! Elsewhere Gadreel helps himself and ends up getting a thumbs-up (and a Talk) from Lady Novak, plus there are some letters in a casket. Or maybe not.

**MDLXVIII**  
**I August**  
**The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_Dear Dean,_

_The English language is a wondrous thing, but it lacks words in some areas. For example, the look on a man's face when he discovers that all his loyalty, bowing and scraping have landed him squarely in the you-know-what. Thus poor Lord Scrope, who is to be 'rewarded' by having the Scottish Pest foisted on him at his Bolton Castle (1) home in Wensleydale, Yorkshire. It is well-placed, both far enough from the Border and close enough to York, whence the Scots can come down and hopefully help sort out this mess. Poor Henry!_

_It will not of course do for a permanent home for the dratted woman, since I very much doubt the Queen will let the Scots take her back, much as it might be the best solution all round (particularly if Moray were to arrange an 'accident' _en route_ ). So we shall be stuck with her for the rest of her life, or at least until she is stupid enough to try something and get caught, for which we can only hope and pray (and plan). Her track record of always doing the dumb thing encourages me in that, at least._

_On a not unrelated issue, the Queen has dragged three top judges all the way from Yorkshire to London in order to answer questions about corruption. Of course this goes on everywhere, but two of them have definite Catholic leanings, whilst the third – well, if he_ would _keep a wife in every Riding (2), his sins were bound to find him out in the end. Better that perhaps than one or more of the wives! News of this will of course get round to all the other local judges, who will all be treading warily for a time. Which is as it should be._

_Your news of the Regent's successes against the former queen's supporters is encouraging, but I hope that he remains on his guard. Scotland is a dangerous country; one only has to look at the fate of the first five King Jameses to see just how dangerous._

_Keep well._

_Cecil._

_Postscriptum: I know now why you asked me to arrange for a clown to visit your brother's house. I would say that that was very cruel of you, except that he admitted that, perhaps in view of The Panty Incident, he had it coming. Should I ask, or would it scar me for life?'_

“Probably”, Dean muttered. “It taught me to keep my underwear drawer locked, that was for sure!”

__

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIII August**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean had been hurrying to Mistress MacLeod's shop, but he encountered the wi.... lady just beyond Holyrood.

“Thank the Lord that I found you!” he said fervently. “Cas is sick!”

The reaction – or rather, the lack of reaction – surprised him.

“Did it happen this morning?” she asked cautiously.

“Yes”, Dean said, growing ever more worried. “Why? What do you know?”

“It is three months since his third birth”, she said, reaching into her bag. “Certain omegas become affected by that in a.... rather unusual way, especially those who have had problems beforehand. You had better get home quickly. Just take this.”

Dean stared at the bottle of 'Rut-U-Like' unguent. 

“He would not even let his parents come over”, he said plaintively. “Just his brother Samandriel. And I am not in a rut just now.”

“It is not for you”, she said to his further mystification. “You had better hurry.”

Dean took the bottle and fairly sprinted back to his house.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XVI August**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Samandriel Novak peered cautiously into the room. Apart from the general disorder, everything seemed fine. And mercifully, quiet.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!”

What was left of his brother-in-law limped into the room. Totally naked. There was not enough brain bleach in the world....

“Food?” Dean said piteously. “Pie?”

“Mother sent several days' supply over”, Samandriel said. “Gadreel is helping me bring it in from the cart.”

The servant appeared, easily carrying two heavy boxes. He grinned at his fellow alpha's state but said nothing.

“Is Castiel all right?” Samandriel asked.

“Your sex-mad brother is fine!” Dean ground out. “Your sex-mad brother who, for some reason, thinks he is the alpha in this marriage.”

Samandriel winced. That explained the limp.

“If you _will_ use Mistress MacLeod's potions”, he said unsympathetically.

“She's all right”, Gadreel said, looking at the various unguent bottles on the shelf, “but her son Crowley is a bit of a dolt. Thinks he is the Lord's gift to omegas. Does this stuff actually work?”

“'Rowena's Go-Go-Go, Extra Strength'”, Dean said. “It does. Not that some sex-mad omega needs it just now....”

“Oh Deeeean?”

The alpha trembled, but turned and trudged dutifully back to the bedroom. Samandriel sniggered and went out to get a box himself. He did not see Gadreel look thoughtfully at the jar of Go-Go-Go, then slip it into his pocket.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXI August**  
 **Windsor Palace, Berkshire (England)**

_'My noble Lord,_

_I am sorry for the delay in writing to you this past month, but certain events mean that I have been somewhat preoccupied. I am sure that you have heard of Mistress Rowena MacLeod, who is most definitely not a witch whatever anyone says about her. Well, I was unwise enough to try one of her potions, her Go-Go-Go, Extra Strength. It so chanced that I was with young Samandriel Novak, Lord Castiel's omega brother at the time, and.... honestly, I do not think that even Purgatory can provide anything more utterly mortifying that arriving at Lord Charles Novak's house with his younger omega son impaled on your dick, riding up and down whilst screaming 'harder, harder!'._

_What they say about Lady Novak is quite true; she just gave me the thumbs-up. Then pulled me aside to tell me that a) I was to become her new son-in-law, and b) what she would do to me if I ever upset her dear boy. And you think the Tudors are inventive when it comes to torture methods?_

_The Regent is preparing to go to York to meet the English lords and discuss his captive half-sister. I suppose he must be torn; part of him would like her back because he could then hold her imprisoned himself or even arrange for her to have an 'accident', but the other part realizes that it is better (and cheaper) for her to be the Queen's problem. He seems strangely confident that he will get a good result from this meeting, from which I understand his half-sister has been excluded. There are of course rumours that he wishes to be king himself, but I do not put much credit in these. Yes, he would like it, but he realizes that he has not the support – at least, as long as young James Stuart lives. If he too were to have an 'accident'.... well._

_Gadreel._

_Postscriptum: I nearly forgot; one reason for my writing to you is that Lord Winchester's mate Castiel has been using the same unguent, and.... well, I do not think my fellow Englishman will be 'up' to writing any time soon. Or holding a quill. Or moving!_ '

Cecil sighed. The young these days!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**X October**  
 **Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“Do _you_ think that they are real?” the Queen asked.

Cecil thought for a moment.

“I do not”, he said at last. “Most likely they are excellent forgeries, these love-letters (3) between the former Scots queen and Lord Bothwell that have so handily been discovered just when Moray needs them. But they serve their purpose, to cast new doubt on his half-sister's already stained character.”

“That is true”, the Queen conceded. “People will forget over time, of course – one only has to look at the support she gathered in the short time after Lord Darnley's death.”

“Part of that is support for the natural order, though”, Cecil said. “Much like the Protestants in East Anglia who backed your late sister when her right to the throne was contested, even though she was a Catholic. The established order up there now is the boy-king, and his Regent is making good progress in picking off his mother's few remaining supporters. Argyll still holds Dumbarton against him, but that is of little consequence as long as Moray retains Glasgow.”

“Will they let us examine the letters?” the Queen asked.

“They will”, Cecil said. “They know that it is in our interests as much as theirs that her name be tarnished, and that even if we did have doubts about them, we would keep them to ourselves.”

“And a verdict of nothing proven once the whole thing is done”, Elizabeth said, satisfied. “Everyone will be happy.”

“Except your cousin”, Cecil said pointedly. “And that will mean we have to find some suc....”

The Queen looked sharply at him.

“Some _subject_ both willing and loyal who is prepared to take on the onerous task of being the Scottish queen's permanent gaoler”, Cecil corrected with a smile.

His mistress shook her head at him, but smiled.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**V November**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_'Dear Dean,_

_It was good to hear from you at last, although I understand that you have had your hands (and other bodily parts) rather full as of late. My sources tell me that omega ruts occur at a rate of less than one in ten thousand, so you were exceedingly blest. Or perhaps you have some other word for it?_ '

I do, Dean thought acidly. A short one!

_'Rumours continue to reach England that Moray, who has returned home after handing over the infamous Casket Letters for our perusal, is still angling for the crown itself. I think however that you are right, and that these are largely being put about by his political enemies in an attempt to discredit him. With religion so prominent in Scotland as of late, I cannot see the church leaders accepting a bastard on the throne._

_(One of the minor Irish barons who came to court the other week said the same thing, and followed it up with a remark about the Queen's legitimacy. Who would have thought she could throw a goblet so far and with such accuracy? She must have taken some lessons from your mother-in-law!)_

_There have been two foreign developments recently, news of which may not have reached you up there. The oddly-named William of Orange (4) has returned to his native Netherlands to lead the rebels in their increasingly failing attempts to break free of Spanish rule. The man is quite able, but I suspect that the task is beyond even him. And in the New World, John Hawkins and his cousin Francis Drake have had a narrow escape from the Spaniards at a place called San Juan de Ulua (5). They were under a flag of truce, albeit one enforced on the local Spaniards by English guns, but when a larger Spanish fleet arrived they ignored such niceties and opened fire. The two young bucks are not on speaking terms since their return after Drake abandoned his cousin and fled._

_I hope everything continues well, and that your omega lets you have an occasional rest._

_Cecil'._

“Some hope of that!” Dean muttered.

“Oh Deeeean?”

Dean would have run for it, but rapid movement was beyond him just then. Instead he just reached for the unguent and prayed fervently.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

Apparently the Good Lord was not in a listening mood.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) A fourteenth century castle some eighty miles from the Border, still extant today. It was damaged in the English Civil War; Henry Scrope's direct descendant Harry Baron Bolton still owns it, although he resides at nearby Bolton Hall. The countryside around it is stunning.  
2) Yorkshire, England's largest county and slightly larger than the state of Connecticut, was traditionally divided into three Ridings (from _thirdings_ ); North, West and East. They met at the city of York, which as then the second largest city in the kingdom, had its own government.  
3) The Casket Letters. Their authenticity is doubtful, especially after they were destroyed on King James VI's orders in 1584.  
4) Also known as William the Silent (b. 1533), because he was not exactly social. His family haled from the town of Orange in what is now southern France, hence the name and that colour still being associated with the Dutch to this day. Bill was great-grandfather to the more famous William of Orange who ruled England, Scotland, Ireland and the Netherlands as King William III (1689-1702), and also great x 11-grandfather to the current Dutch king, William-Alexander.  
5) A set of fortresses near the town of Veracruz, in Mexico. 


	28. Ruts And Rebels (1569)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean celebrates the Fourth of July, the day when at last his omega actually does not want to have sex. He gets two months off before things are back to normal, and by the end of the year Castiel and what is left of the alpha are expecting their fourth child, although their eldest makes Dean seriously consider whether children are a Good Thing after all. A rebellion by some earls in the North of England ends horribly for some seven hundred people, and Samandriel Novak gets an offer he cannot refuse.

**MDLXIX**  
**XXXI January**  
**The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_Dear Dean,_

_I hope that you are well, and are able to sit down long enough to read this. I have read some little more about the exceedingly rare (not rare enough from your viewpoint, perhaps?) omega rut, and in some cases it can last up to a whole year. Please tell your mate that I shall not be impressed if he kills you through too much sex (though doubtless several alphas would be jealous of that statement on your headstone)._

_I have two pieces of news to impart to you, one minor and one quite important. The minor news is that a few weeks back, the Queen herself instituted the National Lottery, a rather clever way of getting the rich to pay more in taxes for the slim belief that they might win something. That it was held in St. Paul's of all places was criticized by some, but since some of the funds will be used for its repair – not including the restoration of the steeple, the weight of which the weakened building can no longer support – then I suppose it is justifiable._

_The second piece is something I know your Scottish friends will be interested in, and I am writing at the same time to Moray to let him know as well. It has been decided that the poor suck... I mean the loyal and faithful subject who shall have the honour (and expense) of housing the dratted Queen of Scots will be the Earl of Shrewsbury (1), and it would be cruel of me to suggest that the fact the Queen does not like his ambitious wife Bess of Hardwick was a factor in the decision. So I will not say that. In truth he really was the only candidate; he has a number of houses in the North Midlands, all some way from both Scotland and the coast. I just wish I could have seen his face when he was told of his being granted this 'great honour'!_

_It looks like we are stuck with the Scottish Pest now that the court at York decided precisely nothing. The Queen has announced the decision against her as 'not proven', which is a polite fiction for saying that she is as guilty as sin but that there is insufficient evidence to bring her to trial. I myself have ensured that amongst the guard permanently attached to her cousin every time she is allowed out, there is a crossbowman with instructions to shoot her dead if any rescue attempt is made._

_Keep in touch – if you can still hold a quill, that is!_

_Cecil'._

Dean scowled at that last remark. Of course he could hold a quill! For some minutes now!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIV February**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Samandriel Novak did not grumble to himself as he tidied up his brother-in-law's apartment. Besides, Gadreel had promised him a St. Valentine's Day treat later, to which he was looking forward mightily.

Perhaps he could relate to his brother's smug looks when it came to having your alpha totally whipped.

“Please tell me Mother sent bacon!” Castiel growled as he came into the room.

“It is you, so of course she did”, Samandriel said. “You two are terrible. Can you not wait until the bedroom before you throw off all your clothes... ugh!

His face contorted, as he held up a pair of lacy green silken panties.

“Castiel!”

His brother grinned.

“Those are not mine”, he said slowly.

It took the youngest Novak way too long to put two and two together, but when he did he let out a plaintive cry. Seriously, he was too young for this sort of thing!

“I have a pair you could borrow for Gad?” Castiel said mischievously.

“I am disowning you!”

His elder brother just looked at him. Samandriel sighed.

“What colour?” he asked.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XVII March**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“The imprisoned queen will get no help from France”, Lord Charles said over dinner. “That is for certain. The Catholics may have won this last battle at some place called Jarnac, but the killing will go merrily on.”

“More meat, Dean?” Gabriel suggested with a grin. “Or have you had enough lately... ow!”

“You upset your mother when she was holding the serving-fork”, his father said pointedly. “Stupid even by your standards, son.”

The rest of the family sniggered. 

“Luke wrote to me the other day”, Lady Novak said airily. “He and your brother, Dean, are at it day and night, but despite all that hard pounding and Mistress MacLeod's potions, his heats are still irregular.....”

She became slowly aware that the rest of the family was looking at her in horror.

“What?”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**IV July**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

This was, Dean knew, a Fourth of July he would always remember. He might even celebrate it in years to come. 

Very, very quietly, of course. Because it was the day that his mate's omega rut finally ended, and Dean's sore arse finally got some relief. He left Castiel sleeping and, with Jensen and Rosemary being looked after by their parents' parents, he took Scaden down to the stables to pay a bill he had there.

No, they did not ride down. For obvious reasons!

The boy found the place fascinating, and the elderly smith was clearly amused at his interest in everything.

“Maybe I shall see if we can get you a horse of your own when you are a little older”, Dean promised. “Would you like that?”

To his surprise, his son hesitated.

“What is it, boy?” the smith asked.

“I am not sure if I want to learn to ride”, the boy said carefully.

“Why not?” Dean asked.

“Because when you picked me up from gra... papa's parents' house the other day, Uncle Gabriel said that papa had you and he had been riding all night”, Scaden said. “You looked so tired the next day, father. And I remember papa told Uncle Gabriel that all that riding was so hard.”

The smith burst out laughing. Dean glared at him. _Why_ had he wanted to have children?

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**IV September**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

There was nothing unusual about that particular day, save that Dean had some more bad news from France.

“It grows worse”, he sighed as he took his boots off. “The Huguenots had won this last battle, but they then went and massacred all their captives despite there having been a flag of truce. That will rightly lose them much support.”

Castiel did not say anything. Dean looked across at him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked anxiously.

“Mother and Father came to collect the children earlier”, Castiel said.

“Oh. Why?”

“Because it is now two months since my rut ended.”

And there went Dean's nice steady breathing pattern. There was even a noise that an uncharitable observer may have misinterpreted as a whine.

“And Mistress MacLeod said we should wait that long before doing It.”

The omega smirked, then ambled casually to the bedroom. But before entering, he undid his kilt which fell to the floor – to reveal a pair of black lace panties. Dean was gonna die!

Oh well, he thought as he walked quickly after his mate, everyone had to go sometime.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIII November**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“I thought I had better tell you in case Lord Cecil had not”, Lord Charles said as he and Dean were walking in the grounds of the palace. “There is news from England, and it is not good.”

“What is it?” Dean asked anxiously.

“The presence of our former queen seems to have done exactly what Cecil feared it might”, the nobleman said gravely. “There has been an uprising in the North. The Earls of Westmorland (2) and Northumberland (3) have raised an army, taken Durham, and dared to hold a Mass in Durham Cathedral.”

“What can have prompted such foolishness?” Dean wondered.

“There are some rumours – I am sure Cecil has heard them – that Pope Pius is planning to excommunicate your queen”, his father-in-law said. “That would basically grant any Catholic a license to kill her. I suppose those rumours must have reached the two earls, though why they struck so soon, Lord alone knows. Your queen's reaction will be... bloody.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIX December**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Lady Novak had been sure that the belated announcement of her elder omega son's latest pregnancy meant that it had to be a beta 'because they are never on time for anything'. Her beta husband had most wisely not remarked on her words.

Dean unfolded his latest letter from England:

_'Dear Dean,_

_The news here is that the uprising in the North is over, although its harvest will be a grim one. The Queen treated those two earls well enough for Catholics, and they have repaid her in this foul manner. They were wise to flee when they did; those they left behind will be paying a heavy price for their actions. The lists we have obtained of their army showed that it was raised from some seven hundred villages; the Queen wants an execution for each village to remind them who is the boss here. It is horrible but, I suppose, necessary._

_The important matter in all this was, of course, the Scottish Pest. Fortunately Shrewsbury was warned, and he swiftly transferred her to the royal castle at Coventry much further south and well away from the advancing rebels. Indeed, I think the news of her removal may have been a pivotal factor in persuading them that their cause was lost. That and the fact that the Queen herself made it clear she was fully prepared to buckle on some armour and confront them herself!_

_There are also some disquieting rumours concerning the Duke of Norfolk (4), whom some Catholics think should have thrown in his lot with the rebels and sought to marry the Scottish Pest. We would have had our hands full had he done so, but he seems to have achieved the worst of all worlds by both not helping his fellow Catholics and making the Queen suspicious of him. And that can be bad for your health - as some seven hundred people in the North are about to find out the hard way!_

_Cecil'._

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury (b. 1528). He had a weak claim to the throne through his descent from the Yorkist kings, but wisely never advanced it. He was arguably the second most prominent nobleman in England after Norfolk at this time. His lineage died out, but the title passed to a cousin and is currently held by one Charles Henry John Benedict Crofton Chetwynd Chetwynd-Talbot.  
2) Charles Earl of Westmorland (b. 1542). Although he had a very weak claim to the English throne, his lands close to the Border and his marriage to the sister of Thomas Duke of Norfolk made him a threat. He subsequently fled to the Continent and died penniless over there, his lands having been confiscated. The title died out with him, but was later (1624) resurrected for his fifth cousin once removed Francis Fane; Anthony, the current earl, is the latter's direct descendant.  
3) Thomas Earl of Northumberland (b. 1528). He and Charles controlled much of the North between them. He later fled to Scotland, but was captured and sold to the English who duly beheaded him. Ralph Percy, the current Duke of Northumberland, is a direct descendant on his brother and eventual successor Earl Henry.  
4) Thomas Howard (b. 1536), the leading nobleman in England by some distance. Elizabeth's second cousin but with no claim to the throne. Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, two wives of King Henry VIII, were both cousins of his. His son Philip would also make the mistake of crossing Elizabeth and would also eventually pay for it with his life; Thomas' great-grandson, another Thomas, regained the dukedom upon the Restoration in 1660, and the current Duke, Edward FitzAlan-Howard, is a direct descendant of the first Thomas and the second one's younger brother Duke Henry. 


	29. Four And Out (1570)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel have their fourth child, whilst the Scots Regent Moray makes history – unfortunately for him. The Pope makes a fateful decision for just about everyone, Samandriel Novak is tied up, and someone is a Greekle. Dean's half-brother plans a wedding, and the alpha's eldest son has some equine questions for him.

**MDLXX**  
**XXIII January**  
**The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Lord Charles Novak took a deep breath before opening the door. He knew what his son and his son's mate were like, and even being married to Lady Rebecca, there were still some sights no man should have to see (he was still recovering from the last story of hers about centaurs!). Fortunately both men were sat in their main room, Castiel feeding Rosemary and Dean playing with the boys.

“There is bad news from Stirling”, the beta said. “The Regent has been killed.”

“How?” Dean asked, aghast.

“Assassinated by carbine (1), by Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh”, his father-in-law said, his face ashen. “This is a disaster!”

“The former queen must be behind it”, Castiel mused. “Or at the very least it must have been done by one of her supporters.”

“Worse still”, his father said, “the Archbishop of St. Andrews (2) was in on it, as the shot came from his house.”

“You have him, or the killer?” Dean asked. 

Lord Charles shook his head.

“Hamilton was last seen headed west towards Dumbarton, which still holds out for the queen”, he said dourly. “There is bound to be a struggle between Mar (3) and Morton for the regency, and that will only be bad for Scotland.”

Castiel thought of something.

“Why did you not send Gad over?” he wondered. 

His father blushed for some reason.

“Alfie started his heat yesterday”, he said, staring hard at the floor. “He and Gad are.... um.... tied up at the moment.”

“Lord, is that the time?” Dean said not at all quickly. “I must feed the boys!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XII March**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_'Dear Dean,_

_As I am sure you are aware, Pope Pius duly excommunicated the Queen at the end of last month. In a way this is a Good Thing; the speculation over the move (as well as inciting the Northerners to revolt) was intensely trying, and now the Queen will sanction even harsher moves against the Jesuits who the Holy Father keeps sending over. Maybe she might send some of them back one piece at a time?_

_You will also doubtless be aware that, partly in response to the Pope's decision, the Queen is entertaining the prospect of marriage again, this time to Henry Duke of Anjou (4), the French king's brother. Unfortunately they are not going well; not only is the duke a Greekle (5) like the late Seigneur Davie, he also most rashly referred to the Queen as_ la putain publique' _, literally a public whore. Fortunately I was able to get someone else to give her that particular news, and the man will I am told make a full recovery. If he_ will _turn his back when running...._

_The Scottish Pest continues to annoy, as I am sure she is plotting something just now. My sources say that she is increasingly desperate, which can only be for the good. Poor Shrewsbury has already begged the Queen to find some other person to take her in charge, as he claims that she is a complete pain. Oh dear._

_Keep well._

_Cecil'._

There was a second letter inside the first, which surprised Dean as it was in his mother's handwriting. Feeling slightly worried, he opened it:

_'My dear son,_

_Just a short note to let you know two things that have happened in the past month, neither of which should cause you any alarm. Lord Cecil kindly said he would include this within his official letter, so you would get the news more quickly._

_Your half-brother Adam is to be married, which we are all pleased at. The lucky lady is one Mistress Christina Chambers, ward of the Duke of Norfolk of whom we have seen precious little of since his name was bruted about after the recent uprising in the North. I feel sure that it was your connection to Lord Cecil that encouraged the duke to accept the match; perhaps he thinks it will get him back into good odour with the Queen. The two youngsters are very much in love, and she will inherit a small estate out in Essex when she comes of age next year. She is extremely fortunate; far too many girls these days may inherit lands only to find them despoiled by greedy so-called guardians. (6) Whatever else one may think of the Duke – and sadly I have to say that I do question his loyalty – he is sound over such things._

_The other news is potentially good, and most probably arises over that batch of 'Volcano Unguent' that you sent from Scotland at Christmas for your brother. I was a little wary of the name, but apparently its stated aim – to suppress variable heats until there is one almighty eruption – works, as your brother and his mate found out last Tuesday. And every day since; even ear-plugs are ineffective against their screams. I note that deep voices run in the Novak family - even when screaming!'_

Dean winced. Too much information!

_'The only other minor news to report is that Asher, who now has a post at Whitehall, is wandering around in a daze muttering that he is going to be a father. Bearing in mind how out of it he is ninety-nine per cent of the time, I take this as proof that miracles do happen! I find it hard to imagine Mistress Joanna Harvelle as a mother, but then her husband as a father is surely an even greater miracle!_

_Your loving Mother'._

Better be a good father, Dean thought wryly, or she might 'show' him her knife collection!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**VI June**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean Winchester, alpha, would like it put on record that he did not faint at the birth of his fourth child. He did not go down like a ton of bricks, whatever anyone said. He remained cool, calm and collected, and dealt with the whole affair rationally and sensibly. And furthermore....

A certain omega was giving him that look again. Dean sighed in a put-upon manner. All right, it had been a good try.

“Welcome back, alpha!” Mistress MacLeod grinned. “Perhaps we should start placing a cushion down there, just so it is ready to receive you.”

“I have a spare one in the cupboard”, Castiel said helpfully. “And whilst you were 'testing' the floor – again! - _I_ gave birth to a beta.”

Dean pulled himself together and stared at the curly-haired blond baby in his mate's arms. There was a loud sniff. A manly one.

“Diniel”, Dean said at once. “We said the next boy might be named after me, and he looks angelic. Like his papa.”

“Awwww!” chorused Lady Novak and Mistress MacLeod.

Dean would let them have that one.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XIV August**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“But Dean.....”

“No, Cas”, Dean said firmly. “Mistress MacLeod was quite firm on this. Four months, she said, and she has been right on just about everything else. Almost preternatural the way she does that, but....

“All right”, Castiel sighed grumpily. “But I want sex.”

Dean gulped.

“Your father was over earlier when you were sleeping, with news from France”, he said. “The latest religious wars have stopped. For now, although he expects them to start up again soon.”

“Still want sex!” Castiel said mulishly.

“Can you not use the plug?” Dean asked. “I had it specially made, and Mistress MacLeod gave me such a look when she handed it over to me that I nearly ran for it.”

“It is not a real knot”, Castiel sighed. “My body knows that. I want _you_ , Dean.”

“What do you want daddy for, papa?”

They both turned quickly. Scaden was in the doorway to his room, looking curiously at them both.

“Papa just needs me to..... ahem, hold him for a while”, Dean managed eventually. “It is an omega thing.”

“Is that like when you lock the door to your room so you can play horsey?”

Both men went bright red.

“Adults play as much as children, really”, Castiel said carefully. “We just... tend not to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because we do not!” Dean said, a little too loudly. “I'll come and play with you for a while, Scay.”

“Doesn't papa need you, daddy?”

“Papa can wait”, Castiel said. _“For now.”_

More prayers come Sunday for the enjoyment he got over Dean's visible terror at that remark. It was, judging by the bulge in that kilt, a 'hard' life for his poor alpha.

And it would soon be even harder!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXII December**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

The men had taken their growing family to the Novaks for Christmas, a double celebration in that Castiel had just discovered that he was expecting a fifth child the following summer. 

“And we have news too”, Lady Novak announced. “A letter came for you whilst you were out, Dean. Your brother and my son have had a child of their own, a beta they intend to call Marcus.”

Dean felt himself welling up, but did not cry. He lifted his neckerchief.

“That is so wonderful!” he said. “How are they?”

“The birth was difficult”, Lady Novak admitted, “but Luke says that a few days on both papa and beta are doing well. The English queen's doctor was himself in attendance, and he has advised them to wait a while before having any more.”

“Some people do not do waiting”, Dean smiled.

“And some alphas are incorrigible”, Castiel retorted. “Never giving their poor omega mate a break, demanding their services day and night....”

“Hey!”

“And now we are both uncles”, Castiel said. “Next thing you know, we will be....”

He stopped. The ticking of the clock in the corner was suddenly and unnaturally loud.

“Uh, parents' parents?” he ventured at last.

“Another good save!” Dean muttered.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) The first person in recorded history to be assassinated with a firearm; doubtless he was _delighted_ to go down in history for that. The assassin Bothwellhaugh was one of Mary's supporters, he immediately (and wisely) fled into exile. A carbine was about halfway between a rifle and a pistol.  
2) John Hamilton (b. 1512), either the assassin's brother or uncle. Bishops (and archbishops) had lost all their lands at the Scottish Reformation but had been allowed to retain their spiritual role; episcopacy was not abolished in the Scottish Church until 1689.  
3) John Earl of Mar (birthdate unknown, but he was old at this time), in charge of raising the infant King James VI. He had been given the job because, like Lord Charles, he was totally unambitious and therefore deemed safe.  
4) Henry (b. 1551), who four years later became King Henry III of France. Ironically he had accepted the titles of King of Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuania only the year before (1573) because the chance of becoming king of his homeland had seemed so small, but he gave that up for his homeland.  
5) Someone who liked alphas, betas and omegas (i.e. all Greek letters) equally.  
6) Mary was all too right about this. Wards who inherited estates could often expect their guardians to despoil if not wreck them in the time before they came of age and could inherit. The choice of guardian usually fell to the Crown, and they would all too often auction it off to the highest bidder amongst competing family members. 


	30. Razed Yet Lowered (1571)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost predictably another there is Catholic plot against the life of Queen Elizabeth, and almost predictably her unwelcome Scottish guest is implicated. Elizabeth does however win a wager because of her reduced Foresight, and Dean has another close encounter of the wooden kind as he makes it five children with Castiel. There is a major naval battle far to the south, and Adam Milligan gets an offer he had better not refuse.

**MDLXXI**   
**IX April**   
**Whitehall Palace, London (England)**

“Well?” the Queen said anxiously.

“She said yes”, Cecil said. 

“Damnation!”

The Secretary sighed. His life would be so much easier if the former Queen of Scots could obligingly fall under a cart or something. But then, she had never been the obliging sort.

“There is proof?” the Queen asked.

“Of her involvement, no”, Cecil admitted reluctantly. “We only have the intercepted messages sent by the agents of Seigneur di Ridolfi (1), in which they report that _they believe_ she is content for the assassination plot against you to go ahead. She was too wily to commit herself to paper.”

 _Yet_ , he added silently to himself.

“I knew setting up that Royal Exchange would be trouble”, the Queen said. “Encouraging trade is all very well but it gives the agents of our enemies another way into our country.”

“Ridolfi went to Alva over in the Netherlands”, Cecil told her. “He was to bring over an army of some ten thousand to depose you, presumably in the hopes that the Dutch would obligingly not take advantage of his absence. Then he went to the Pope, and finally to King Philip. The latter is most annoyed at your excommunication, by the way.”

The Queen looked sharply at him.

“It cannot be cousinly concern on his part”, she observed. Cecil nodded.

“He fears you may use the move as an excuse to persecute Catholics more”, he said.

“More fool him”, she said shortly. “My late sister went down that road, and look at the reaction. We may have to send up the occasional recusant now and again, but I will not give my enemies the flood of martyrs that she gave hers. I must write to Duke Cosimo (2) and thank him for his warning.”

“There is other news”, Cecil said, “and it is rather better. The king's forces in Scotland have taken Dumbarton Castle, which secures the area around Glasgow.”

“That is good”, the Queen agreed. “It seems as if my cousin's few supporters up there are finally yielding to the inevitable.”

Ah.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXI April**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“I suppose it is a good thing that our former queen continues to show her complete lack of judgement”, Lord Charles observed to his son-in-law. “Her entanglement in this latest plot against your queen is being talked about everywhere.”

“The King of Spain was unwise to get himself involved”, Dean said. “The Pope is one thing – he has religious grounds for his attitude – but when monarchs start plotting to assassinate each other, we are headed down a dark path indeed.”

His father-in-law looked sharply at him.

“I would wager”, he said, “that there are many at the English court who would welcome the death of their unwelcome Scottish guest. Starting with your employer.”

“He probably would”, Dean admitted, “but he knows that if his mistress suspected his involvement in any direct action against his unwelcome guest, she would refuse point blank to act. If, however, she is foolish enough to place her own head on the block....”

“I would like to think she would not be so unwise”, his father-in-law said. “Unfortunately all the facts suggest otherwise.”

A servant came hurrying in and handed the beta a letter, which he read ony to turn pale.”

“What is it?” Dean asked anxiously.

“Just as we thought that it was all over”, his father-in-law sighed. “William Kirkcaldy has chosen now to switch sides to our absent former monarch, and is threatening to start firing on the town. Honestly!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**VIII June**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“That was an improvement.”

Dean stared groggily at his mate.

“Wha...?”

“You did not seem impelled to mount a close examination of the floor this time”, the omega smirked. “Unfortunately you more than remedied that by managing to knock yourself out when opening the door!”

Dean blushed. 

“Oh, and you have another alpha son!”

Dean was not going to cry. He was not. And certain ladies in the vicinity could cut with the smirking right this minute, damn them!

“Your choice of name, beloved”, he said. “Our fifth child.”

“I thought Quintus”, Castiel said. “From the Latin for five, as we have been truly blest five times.”

Dean smiled at him.

“So far”, Castiel added, his voice suddenly dropping to a growl.

It was cold in the room. That was why Dean trembled.

Yes it _was!_

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

Dean was relieved that, his extremely temporary absence apart, the birth had happened as smoothly as it had done. Ever since the castle dominating the town had declared for the deposed former queen the threat of war had hung over the city, but after some hurried negotiations a temporary truce had been agreed and they had not had to move. If his mate had been hurt by some wayward lord's bad timing, he would have stormed the bloody castle himself!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXI August**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

_'Dear Dean,_

_First, congratulations on your latest new family member, and yet another alpha. I have always thought Scotland to be an under-populated country for its size, but you certainly seem to be working hard to remedy that._

_I am afraid that the marriage of your half-brother to Mistress Chambers has been overshadowed by her guardian's poor choice of actions, namely his involvement in the recent Ridolfi Plot against the Queen. It has now been proven beyond doubt that he accepted money from the French king in order to agree to marry the Scottish Pest if the plot had succeeded, and he has withdrawn from court on the pretext of an illness. Fortunately your half-brother's wedding itself passed off well, and the happy couple have moved to Dengie at the far end of Essex, the estate that the new Mistress Winchester will inherit shortly._

_Parliament is still grumbling about the Queen not being married, even though that now she is nearly forty – and do not be stupid, of course I have not mentioned that fact in her presence as I am still alive to write this – children from any union would be unlikely. The French match still looks a possibility, but I doubt that it will happen. I am more concerned at certain members of parliament grumbling over ship-money. How exactly do they think we will pay for the ships to protect our island nation, pray?_

_Talking of ships, I lost a wager with the Queen the other day. She bet me that the new razee_ Foresight _(3) could run a full circle round an old-style galleon before that ship could turn in a steady wind. Unfortunately I doubted Mr. Hawkins's new design enough to accept the bet, but at least she was happy to win. The new design will be much needed if – when – the Spanish tire of our privateering and finally try to invade, though hopefully that will not be for some years yet._

_There has been talk, a lot of it nonsensical, about our dealings with the Mohammedan Ottoman Empire, which is threatening Catholic Europe from the south-east. It is of course not our quarrel, although anything that distracts King Philip at this time can only be a good thing. Incredibly the Pope has persuaded the normally quarrelsome Italian states to (temporarily) shelve their differences and contribute along with the Spanish king to a huge fleet which will take on the Turk. There will be a major battle soon, and we shall watch the result with interest._

_Cecil'._

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**II October**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“Why is your Lord Cecil so worried over this bill in the English parliament?” Castiel asked as the two of them sank back into the settee and each other. Lord Charles and Lady Novak had called to take the children out so they could have some time to themselves, for which both men were grateful.

“Because”, Dean said, “they are doing it by themselves.”

“I do not see the problem”, his mate said.

“It is all her late father's fault”, Dean sighed. “When he wanted to marry her mother Anne Boleyn, he felt he needed the support of parliament, so he gave them a permanent home in the Palace of Westminster that he had just quitted for Whitehall. Before then parliaments only met wherever the king was; there is a famous case of their meeting in a village (4) one time just because an important lord had his house there. Once they had their own home however, they started getting ideas above their station.”

“That would never have happened here”, Castiel said smugly.

“Only because Scotland is relatively poorer”, Dean countered. “The Queen needs parliament to sanction taxes, and the members in it expect their complaints to be heard in return.”

“Surely parliament is not a problem?” Castiel wondered.

“Religion complicates things even more now”, Dean said. “The Puritans, who do not like the Anglican Church, are small in number but well organized, and they already have several members. It is only constant watchfulness on the part of Cecil that keeps them in check. That they would seek to enact even this minor piece of legislation off their own backs – it does not bode well for the future.”

“Talking of the future”, Castiel said with a smile, “I think your immediate one involves a pair of lacy green panties.”

That alpha whine was so damn satisfying!

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**I November**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“It was so good of Lord Cecil to arrange my journey here”, Mary Campbell said happily as she nursed young Quintus. “And so I could see all my grandchildren. It is almost a pity my alpha son is so prodigious that he pups you so fast you do not have time to visit, Castiel.”

Both men winced at her words.

“Could you not talk about..... that?” Dean asked plaintively.

“Sex?” his mother asked. 

Dean winced again.

“Anyway, I have two pieces of news for you”, she said, “although you may know the major one already. The fleets of the Holy League and the Turk have clashed at a place called Lepanto (5) in Greece, and God has granted victory to the Christians.”

“I wonder if your Elizabeth will be happy at that”, Castiel mused. “It will leave her cousin Philip free to turn his energies elsewhere, for one thing.”

“One victory will not end the threat of an empire that controls half the Midland Sea (6)”, Dean said. “Yes, Cecil told me about that In the letter your brought, Mother. What was the other news?”

She hesitated.

“It may be something or nothing”, she said, “but Adam was advised to buy out the Duke of Norfolk's guardianship of his good lady wife. Not only that, but Lord Cecil advanced him the money to so do.”

“And the Duke agreed to this?” Dean asked. “Come to that, why the haste? Her birthday is barely three months away.”

“That”, she said, “is what makes it so interesting.”

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

Notes:  
1) Roberto di Ridolfi (b. 1531), a Florentine businessmen and Catholic spy. Not in that order.  
2) Cosimo I, first Grand Duke of Tuscany (b. 1519), a state he created by greatly expanding the Duchy of Florence. He was a Catholic, but he felt threatened by both France and Spain and so warned Elizabeth when he learnt of the plot.   
3) An advanced form of galleon in which the sides and top had been 'razed' (i.e. erased or lowered) to make a much faster and more manoeuvrable vessel. Before this ships had high areas called castles fore (hence fo'c's'le) and aft from which guns and arrows could be fired, but these made them very unstable; ironically the new design proved so effective that the term 'razee' was abandoned as all galleons came to follow that design. Incidentally, the HMS (Her/His Majesty's Ship) prefix did not become common for another two centuries.  
4) Acton Burnell (population as of 2019, 540) in Shropshire. Robert Burnell, who gave his name to the place, was Bishop of Bath & Wells and also chancellor to King Edward I (1272-1307). The law change being discussed was significant, being the first time parliament had felt emboldened enough to do something like that.  
5) Now the Gulf of Patras in modern Greece.  
6) The Mediterranean Sea. 


	31. Eastward Ho! (1572-1573)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Charles wins another bet and Gabriel Novak nearly loses his luncheon. Lord Cecil has reason to be sore afraid of the Queen after some dubious dealings on his part, whilst Dean just has reason to be sore, full stop. There is a further addition to his family and a new chapter in his and Castiel's lives together opens as they and their family head east - just in time!

**MDLXXII**   
**XXIII January**   
**The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean sighed as he read his latest letter from Lord Cecil.

“What is it?” his mate asked. “Problems?”

“We know now why my half-brother was advised to buy out his wife's guardianship from the Duke of Norfolk”, he said grimly. “His Grace has been arrested for his involvement in the Ridolfi Plot.”

“That was months ago”, Castiel said.

“Unfortunately for him new evidence has also come to light about his attendance at York”, Dean told him. “As well as debating those Casket Letters he also sounded out several of the Scottish lords as to how they might feel about a King Thomas on the English throne.”

“Fool man!” Castiel snorted. “Did he honestly think the small matter of some two hundred miles would stop that getting back to his mistress?”

“Obviously someone talked”, Dean said. “Now he is under arrest. I doubt that she would go so far as to put him to death though. He is her cousin.”

“So is our former queen”, Castiel pointed out. 

“And she has spared her life despite her obvious involvement in the plot”, Dean said. “Well, we shall soon see.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XX February**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Gabriel Novak scowled as he placed several coins on the table. His father just shrugged and picked them up.

“How could you know?” the young beta asked. “I thought that no-one would back the two of them being shut up for between eight and nine days this time.”

Lord Charles smiled.

“I have experience of this sort of thing”, he said airily. “Either that or I really am God. Remember that you are one of eight children, Gabriel.”

His son looked horrified. Lord Charles chuckled.

“And since Samandriel and Gadreel are similarly, ahem, 'tied up'”, he said, trying not to enjoy his son's horrified look, “you can take this aftercare unguent over to Castiel's house. His alpha will need it.”

“Father!”

“He will. I should know because....”

The door had slammed behind his wailing son. Lord Charles smiled.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXIX May**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean had no idea what they were expecting this time – Castiel had wanted it to be a surprise – but he was just praying for the next six months to pass quickly. His omega had always had these periods when he was more demanding than usual so that was not so surprising. What was surprising was that the period seemed to be a permanent one. Three months in, and Little Dean _hurt!_

At least the situation in town had eased somewhat, as the truce with the castle owners had been extended until the end of the year. But with the former queen's supporters elsewhere surrendering right, left and centre, Dean feared it would not stretch any further.

“It has to be another alpha”, Castiel said as he walked carefully over to the settee. “I am far too large at this time for a nice sensible omega.”

That was a pity, Dean thought, because he would quite have liked an omega son of his own. He had said as much to his mate last night, and Castiel had cried at his thoughtfulness. 

And then had sex with him. Twice! There may or may not have been some very manly tears involved from one of them who was not an omega.

There was a knock at the door.

“Enter!” Dean called out.

It was Gadreel. He grinned at them both. 

“Glad to see you 'knot' naked this time”, he teased.

“You can talk!” Dean countered. “How is Alfie doing?”

“Mistress MacLeod says that he can expect an alpha come November”, he said. “I bring news from England, and it is not good.”

Dean was surprised.

“Why did my Lord Cecil not write to me?” he wondered.

“Because your Queen is furious with him”, Gadreel told him. “You remember that she has her cousin Norfolk in gaol just now?”

“Yes”, Dean said. “Is she not going to keep him under house-arrest like Mary Stuart?”

“She is going to have him beheaded!”

Both men stared at him in shock.

“It was all Cecil's doing”, Gadreel told them, “and he communicated the fact privately to Lord Charles when it all went down. She did not of course want to have a leading nobleman killed, especially as he is related to her late mother, but Cecil arranged for one of his printing-presses to issue certain facts about the case to the general public, and there were riots demanding the duke's death across London. She has had no choice but to order him to be put to death next Monday, the second.”

“And she knows it was Cecil behind the leaflets?” Castiel asked.

“Of course she knows!” Gadreel scoffed. “She knows all. He is in bad odour, and will be for some time.”

“I bet he is running for cover”, Castiel said shrewdly.

“If I had been foolish enough to cross that lady”, Gadreel said, “I would not run. I would sprint!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXVII August**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Castiel had just had another of his 'demanding times', which meant that Dean had not been allo.... had not felt inclined to leave the apartment for several days. When finally he did hobble the short distance to Holyrood, he could see at once that something was very wrong. The people all talked in hushed voices, and several were wearing black. And when he got to his in-laws' house, there were wreaths on more than one door.

“You have not yet heard?” Lord Charles told him. “I suppose poor Lord Cecil is still recovering from having sent Norfolk to the block, and is slower to let his operatives know about recent developments.”

“What developments?” Dean asked anxiously.

“Three day ago - on St. Bartholomew's Day (1) - the Catholics in France mounted a co-ordinated rising against the Huguenots. We are still getting details, but from what we know so far we are looking at some ten thousand killings, probably many more.”

Dean was shocked into silence.

“That will put the final nail in the coffin of any hopes those in England had of Elizabeth marrying Henry of Anjou”, Lord Charles said. “Incredibly he is actually on his way to London 'to explain things', as he put it. I would not care to be in court when he does finally show his face.”

“Christians all”, Dean muttered, “yet they commit murder in the name of the Lord. It is disgusting!”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXX October**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

“We have a new Regent.”

Castiel looked up in surprise. He was now only two weeks away from his due date, and he secretly thought that he might be about to deliver a baby elephant. Seriously, what _was_ he carrying?

“What happened to Mar?” he asked.

There was the slightest hesitation before his mate answered.

“Died after dinner last night”, he said. “The doctor said that there were no suspicious circumstances.” (2)

Castiel just looked at him.

“So now it will be Morton”, the omega said. “Poor Mar. I wonder if he...”

He trailed off. Dean nodded.

“I think many people are wondering that too”, he agreed.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XI November**  
 **The Law College, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Dean had been determined. This time, he _would_ stay conscious for the birth. And when Mistress MacLeod had eased out a baby and declared that he had indeed acquired an omega son, well, Dean had been delighted. Surprised perhaps, and his hand was probably broken where his mate was grabbing onto it whilst uttering more swear words than even the alpha had thought possible, but absolutely delighted.

 _Then_ had come the hitch.

“And now for number two!” Mistress MacLeod had said cheerfully.

 _That_ was when Dean had fai... collapsed from shock.

֎†֎†֎†֎†֎

“Another omega”, Mistress MacLeod told him later when he had come round. “And you will not like what I am going to tell you, but....”

Dean knew already. Omega birthings were difficult enough as it was, and twins were quite often fatal to one or the other parties. This would be their last pregnancy, for his mate's safety.

“Of course we can still have sex outside of ny heats”, Castiel smiled. “Just hopefully without you fainting. Again!”

The alpha pouted.

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

**XXV December**  
 **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh (Scotland)**

Lord Charles handed his son-in-law a key.

“What is this for?” Dean asked, one eye on where Lady Rebecca was cooing over Cassius and Demetrius across the room.

“Christmas present”, Lord Charles said. “Those apartments were cramped enough with five children; you would not be able to cope with seven. This is a far-sized house that belongs to the family out on the Musselburgh road, close to the sea and with lots of rooms for a growing family. And the main room has a very large bed.”

“How do you know that?” Dean wondered.

His father-in-law smiled, and looked across at his wife. Dean shuddered.

“Forget I even asked!” he said quickly. “And thank you.”

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

_Postscriptum: Castiel, Dean and their family moved to their new home on New Year's Eve – a most fortuitous decision as the following day the truce ended and the castle began to bombard the town. Castiel's parents swiftly decamped to their country house and remained there until the king's men retook the castle in May._

֍†֍†֍†֍†֍

Notes:  
1) Prompted partially by the decision of Catherine de Medici to marry her daughter Margaret to the Protestant Henry King of Navarre, it has never been established who was behind it. Notably King Charles IX made precious little effort to stop it being carried out in towns other than Paris. The loss of so many of their leaders crippled and eventually destroyed the Huguenot movement, but France remained weak until the end of the century.  
2) Probably it was just old age (he was at least fifty, probably older), but given the nature of Scots politics, people's suspicions were understandable. 


End file.
